


The Case of the Porcelain Projectile

by TunnelRabbit



Series: Orbits [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: And a someone, Communism, Democracy, Detective Noir, Elections, F/M, Murder Mystery, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-War, Toph Being Awesome, Toph finds a career, Whodunnit, Yu Dao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunnelRabbit/pseuds/TunnelRabbit
Summary: Toph finds herself mixed up in murder and politics as her adopted city of Yu Dao stumbles towards democracy. And there's this boy--who is totallynother type--who keeps popping up everywhere trying to be useful. Cute? Or suspicious...?





	1. The Hit

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a standalone story (as long as you don't mind meeting a bunch of new characters--they all get some introduction here). 
> 
> But it is part of the [Orbits, Book 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14296695/chapters/32982015) story arcs, occurring at about the same time as Chapters 10-16 and right after Chapter 7 (when the kid shows up in Yu Dao and we meet Candidate Lahar). In fact, this was originally part of Book 5, but got too big, so I pulled it out. 
> 
> Just like Toph, it had to do its own thing.

*  
_May - June, Year 4 after the Comet_  
_Yu Dao/The Fifth Nation_

石

Toph was on a consulting call at Jade Mountain Forge in Yu Dao's Industrial District when the kid showed. Strolled into the storefront on the scent of sandalwood and green tea, like he just happened to be passing by, tossing the hair from his eyes and idly fingering the metalwork trinkets on display. His touch was sensitive, thoughtful. She couldn’t know if his eyes were on her, but his attention pressed at her back, not to mention the heartbeat hammering a little too fast for window shopping.

She stood in the workshop at the rear, facing away from the open doorway to the adjoining store, and gave no sign she’d noticed him. She kept up her conversation with Kollan, the bladesmith who’d called her in today.

“Nope, this is not the same as the sample they brought you last week. Riddled with impurities. They charged you the same, huh?”

“Swore it came from the very same vein,” the bladesmith confirmed, with a tense set of the jaw.

“Fraud. Tell the guild to block them, on Toph’s warrant.” She’d keep an eye out for the swindler herself and see to it his days in the Yu Dao market were over.

“That’s all the verification they’ll need. You’re trusted in these streets, Master Toph. But if Yu Dao’s going to be its own _nation_, it’s going to need more than _personal trust_ to go on. If we’re going to support our industries and build up international trade.” Kollan hammered his words home with earnest conviction.

“So, what? Some kind of citywide inspection system?”

“Exactly. Certification procedures, run by the government, like the Fire Nation used to do.”

"Minus the corruption and random beatings."

"Well, yes. No one wants the _actual_ Fire Nation back."

“Sounds like you’ve got a platform.”

“I care about this community, Toph. And its reputation for quality workmanship. So I have your vote?”

“I don’t live in this district, Kollan, but I can spread the word, give you a boost.”

“Your endorsement would mean a great deal.”

“Sure thing.” She waited, still watching the kid in the other room through the soles of her feet, as he watched her.

“Your usual fee?”

“Aw, 5% discount this time, for a regular. Simple job.” The kid picked up a knife and absently slid it in and out of its jeweled sheath. Toph, very professionally, did not snigger.

“Very generous of you, Master Toph.” The bladesmith rummaged through a small money chest to count out the correct amount, placing it in her waiting hand.

She waved her thanks and turned to go.

“Velvet! What brings you to this side of town?” She feigned surprise, just as she had the last two “chance” encounters.

“Master Toph? Imagine meeting you here! I was looking to…purchase a new dagger. Do you…um, work here?”

“Just a gig. That’s a nice one. A bit fancy, though. Kind of invites trouble.” Like the kind he'd walked right into—_twice_—when she'd first encountered him on the road from Ba Sing Se a couple years ago, and saved his richly clad ass. 

“Ah, good point. Yes, maybe something plainer?”

“What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

“Nothing, really. I just…can you really have too many?”

“Right…. _Amazing_ how many times we’ve run into each other this week.” A girl would say that coquettishly. From Toph it was more of an implied accusation.

“Oh, uh, is it? It is! It _is_ amazing. We must have a lot of interests in common! We should talk about them. Would you like to talk? Maybe some tea, I do enjoy tea. Do you like tea? With me? Ifyouhavetime, maybetoday?” The words tumbled out like gravel from a bucket, faster and faster. Toph tactfully suppressed a snort of laughter. Because—and this was weird—she sort of did care about not hurting Velvet's feelings. She took mercy on him.

“Meet me at the Tea Brick in an hour.”

She waltzed out to the off-kilter beat of his confused little heart.

* * *

Her consulting calls done for the day, Toph ambled through the Industrial District towards the city center, returning friendly hails, on her way to the venerable tea house.

She could feel the kid’s anticipation before she stepped through the door. 

“Master Toph!” He waved her over immediately—not a subtle finger-flick that she might have missed, but a full-body undulation. “The hostess said you prefer to sit in the back, but would you mind terribly if we sit by the window today? It’s a beautiful day, and I love to watch the passersby.”

She could understand that, even if she didn’t personally need a window to keep a bead on the scene. And she couldn’t deny the pleasure of the spring breeze. “No problem. And call me Toph. Just Toph.”

There was less harmony on the tea choice. She ordered her usual, a brew from fermented, pressed tea, with an earthy aroma and a punch of caffeine—the eponymous “brick” the house was known for. Velvet recoiled at the bitterness in his first taste, but forced it down. 

“Not your cup of tea?” She groaned inwardly and smacked down her inner Sokka.

“It’s fascinating. Very…dark. I’m used to rather a greener brew.”

“Next time you go back to Ba Sing Se, I’ll point you to the best cup of jasmine you’ve ever had.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a tea connoisseur.”

“I have layers, Velvet.”

“So do I.”

Their banter stuttered to a halt, on that suggestive note, and neither knew where to take it from there. They recovered at the same time, words tumbling over each other:

—“So if I peel back the brocade—”

— “Are you from this area originally?”

They stopped abruptly.

— “You know I'm not.”

— “I’m not wearing brocade.”

Words collided awkwardly again. This time, the kid took her hand—she almost flinched, it was so unexpected—and guided it to his sleeve.

“See? Just linen.”

Very soft linen, with the luxuriously drape of high quality and long wear, but yeah, just linen.

“I did wear this, just for you,” he smiled. And tugged her hand gently upward to feel the trim on his overtunic. Velvet.

Toph laughed. She couldn’t help it, and it had the benefit of covering for her lack of a quippy comeback. What was wrong with her, flatfooted and tongue-tangled? It wasn’t like he was her type, not even close. She liked them brash and rugged and in-your-face. Salt of the earth. Bandit-Bait here couldn’t even handle strong tea. He came from the _right_ side of the tracks, and on up the hill from there. To be fair, he seemed to be making a decent effort at wriggling free of the gilded cage. Not his fault the Avatar hadn’t dropped by to sweep him off his feet to take him off to war. Though he _had_ been rescued by a dashing earthbending hero….

Velvet hadn’t let go of her hand. Her pulse was getting unnervingly jumpy, in complex counterpoint with the fluttering his had been doing all along.

“Toph?”

A diversion! She yanked her hand back to answer the new arrival with a cheery wave across the room. “Nendo! Come join us!”

Though only in her mid-twenties, Nendo was shockingly professional and competent, to the point that one would assume she’d be about as much fun to hang out with as a masonry textbook. But there was something genuine about her that Katara and Aang had recognized right away, back when they rescued her from a mob of angry villagers near the Fire Nation colony of Palgan. She truly cared about her responsibilities and would go to the wall doing right by them. And against all odds, she had a sense of humor.

“Thanks, Toph. Don’t mind if I do. You’re in a good mood today. But who wouldn’t be with such fine company?”

“Nice to see you off the clock, Nendo.”

“Barely. I am done with my last meeting of the day, though. I saw you two through the window and figured I deserve a break before starting in on the paperwork. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Not a thing! You know this kid?”

“Sure! Kiza is staying at Ginna’s, as he usually does.” That made sense. Nendo’s wife ran a modest but respectable inn near the city gates.

“And how could I not know Councilwoman Nendo? Champion of the working man?”

Nendo blew him off with a self-deprecating snort. “I’m nobody important.”

“Sure you’re not.” Toph elbowed Nendo in the ribs affectionately. “What do you wanna bet she’s president in a few years?” Nendo had won her seat on the City Council just months after showing up in Yu Dao as a colonial refugee during the Harmony Restoration period.

“No.” She planted her hand on the table in a decisive gesture. “I simply had the right skillset at the right time. I’ll be back to a nice, steady position as a building inspector as soon as my term is up—foundations and girders and things I understand.” She sounded downright wistful about that. “What's up with you, Toph? How's Aang?"

"All good. I keep a tether on Twinkletoes—as much as that's possible—now that Sugar Queen's gone. But he's off again. He's got about as much tolerance for local politics as a badger-hound for canker-fleas, and I can't say I blame him—at least_ I_ get to keep all that at arm's length."

"And when you're not minding the Avatar? What are you doing with your time these days?"

“I consult. Here and there. It's a living.”

“By which you mean…telling people what to do?” There was a wink in that question.

“They ask, I tell: consulting. Materials analysis for masons and foundries. Bending arts academies sometimes—everyone wants to learn metalbending, but it never really goes well.” She shook her head. Most students just couldn’t _see_ the metal, and Toph couldn’t give eyes to the blind. “I judge some tournaments, too, do a little coaching every now and then—but I command a high fee for that, since I’m undefeatable.”

“Not bad_._ You’ve built a strong reputation in this city.”

Toph shrugged with a nonchalance she didn't always feel in her determination never to turn to her parents for help. “I fill my time. I do a lot of pro bono stuff, too. Not everyone can pay for what they need, you know. _Justice_ is in especially short supply these days.”

Nendo sighed. “Don’t I know it. It’s disintegrating into a free-for-all, since the Fire Nation left. I thought I’d already seen the dirt under the Council table, but it’s deeper than I knew. And it’s all getting kicked up now.”

“It can’t be as corrupt as Ba Sing Se,” Velvet protested.

“I couldn’t say. All I know is what I see: the powerful preying on the weak, like it’s their _job.”_

“It _is_ their job. That’s what power is.”

“Not at all, Toph. That’s _abuse_ of power. Using it for the wrong things." 

“A true king allows himself to be governed by virtue. A moral king serves his people.” Velvet intoned archly.

“That’s the traditional Ba Sing Se line. But as a system, it’s lacking, don't you think? It leaves everyone dependent on one man to make good choices, just because he ought to—one bad brick and the whole thing falls. It’s got the structural integrity of water.”

“Ironic, for the Earth Kingdom,” Toph commented.

“It’s stood for centuries, though…?” Velvet sounded like he wasn’t sure if he should defend the system, play devil’s advocate, or just agree.

“You don’t remember a certain Fire Princess who knocked it all down like a tower of children’s blocks?”

“It falls, it’s rebuilt. It falls, it’s rebuilt. And no one cares who’s crushed in the process. But _we_ care. Or, at least we have an opportunity to. To make something that can stand on its own.”

Toph liked the ideal, in theory. But all systems can be gamed. “Here’s hoping.” She pushed her cup forward.

Nendo obligingly poured again for all three, then raised her cup. “To our city. And to the Fifth Nation.”

They drank together.

“Councilwoman Nendo, what can you tell us about the transition?” The kid leaned forward earnestly. “What is the new government going to look like?”

“Yeah, fill us in on the political machinations at the Governor’s Palace.”

Nendo let out a dry huff of something like laughter, bitter as the tea. “Machinations? I hope I didn’t give you the impression that the Council actually knows what it’s doing. There are some good ideas. But mostly it’s mud wrestling. Fortunately, the City Council proper is free of all this after the elections this month—for the Interim Fifth Nation Congress, IFNaCon?”

“Well aware, Nendo. I’m not _deaf._ But you must have a rough sketch or something to hand over to the new Congress, after five months of work. An outline for the new government?”

Nendo groaned and planted her face in her hands. “If only. The first three weeks were spent just coming up with a _name_ for the Congress.”

“And _that’s_ what you came up with?”

“And the rest of the time we spent arguing about how to choose its members. In fairness, we’ve still had a city to run, the day-to-day business.”

“I thought that was decided with the Ten-Minute War Treaty—democratic vote.”

“That’s only step one, Kiza. How do we make sure all the critical constituencies are represented? And none of them are _over_-represented? Everyone’s got a different stake in it. And since some weren’t represented on the City Council at all, like the villagers in the Yu Dao Valley, some of us had to advocate for them and make sure they'll have a voice. We won that one. There will be three rural representatives: North Valley, South Valley, and Foothills.”

“And then the rest by district from the city, four urban representatives to outnumber the three rural?” 

“Yes—but geography isn’t the only way to divide it up. The Fire Nation sympathizers wanted to make sure that Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation get equal representation, but then someone brought up the Water Tribes, because of the Water ex-pats living here, and the prediction that the community will grow. Then the Air Acolytes showed up, and there was a _huge_ debate over them, since they aren’t properly members of the Air Nation at all. So, we now have one seat for each of the four nations—with quite a bit of controversy over the Air seat, and Aang unwilling to even take a clear stand. How does someone _qualify_ to represent a given nation? That’s still really unclear.”

“Why represent the nations at all? Won’t we all be citizens of the Fifth Nation?” Toph asked.

Nendo shook her head. “Sure, but heritage, culture—too many people can’t look past the differences, and I’m not sure they should. Not to mention the primacy of the elements—even in the lives of nonbenders. And then there’s class! In the colonial days, it was simple: Fire Nation citizens above and the Earth Kingdom citizens below. But now that that’s broken down, it turns out that the Earth Kingdom wealthy often have interests more aligned with the Fire Nation elite, and a lot of Fire Nation laborers are fighting for their rights alongside workers from other nations. Especially now that PEL is in town, pushing their agenda on the streets.”

“People’s Earth Liberation? The old Freedom Fighters? I thought they were only allowed to operate here as a ‘charitable organization’?”

“Yeah, but that covers education. And they do a lot of, frankly, very effective education. _Class-conscious _education_._ They’re not quite reaching the Council—yet. We ended up rejecting the idea of representation by economic class, for now. But Smellerbee’s running for the North Valley seat.” 

“I heard she was up against the Mother Superior,” Kiza offered. “And I thought everyone loves the Abbey?”

“No disrespect to the holy women, but Smellerbee’s running circles around the Reverend Mother in mobilization of votes—and it’s sheer numbers that will count. I think PEL has it in the bag, so economic class definitely isn’t off the table. And then there are benders! Because obviously benders have higher status and more _personal_ power, at the very least, than non-benders. So do we put in something to prevent benders from claiming too much political power?”

“Like…a limit on seats or something?”

“Basically. However, there’s a faction that’s taken to heart the Avatar’s pronouncement that the Fifth Nation was always supposed to be a haven for non-benders and wants to guarantee Yu Dao for non-benders and keep _all_ benders out of the government completely.”

“What? How is that fair? It’s not like the other nations _are_ controlled by benders. Not necessarily.” 

“You can’t deny that benders concentrate among the elite and powerful, Toph. There’s a reason for that.”

“Aang also named ‘the ones who can find no home in the Four Nations’ and I’m not leaving this city! Yu Dao would be nothing without its benders. All those crafts industries? Not to mention defense! You can’t bar us from holding office. Can you?”

“It’s complicated. In the end, we came up with a quota of no more than 25% benders in elected seats—roughly equivalent to the proportion in the population. And if the vote comes back with more than that, then we’ve come up with this ridiculously complicated way of rebalancing it, going to runners-up and run-off elections. Hardly anyone is happy with this solution, honestly.”

Toph’s head reeled. She took another sip of the bracing brew. “That is a fucking _mess_, Nendo. I am never, ever, ever going to work in government. You don’t need to worry about_ this_ bender getting into politics.”

They were interrupted by a loud, rhythmic clanging in the street outside, and the marching, dancing, leaping feet of dozens—no, hundreds—punctuated with random horn blasts. Toph had heard them blocks away, hoping that’s where they would stay. No such luck.

“It’s not a protest, is it?”

Velvet craned his neck out the open window. “They don’t appear to be angry. It’s certainly political, but festive, I'd have to say. The marchers are waving multicolored streamers and carrying signs and banners: ‘Fifth Nation, First Democracy!’” he read aloud, presumably for Toph’s benefit. “‘Rainbow Nation’…‘Lahar is our Future!’”

“Oh, Lahar. Of course. Are you a supporter?”

“It is nearly impossible not to like her," the kid answered.

“Of course it’s possible.”

“Come on, Toph,” Nendo admonished her. “She stands for everything you want for Yu Dao! She’s passionate, caring, knows this city inside and out—she’s even pretty.”

“Oh, she’s a cutie, all right.” Toph waited a beat. Nendo didn’t even notice, the bureaucrat. Velvet stifled a giggle behind his hand. Aristocrat. Toph cracked a half grin. “Sure, I back her all the way. You think I’d vote for her _opponent?”_ Gow’s supporters dug his tough common sense—and how he held his ground and never backed down. That’s what they said, anyway. Brick walls don’t back down either, and have about as much brains. Toph shrugged. “Just saying, she’s not a universal favorite.”

“Maybe not, but she looks well favored enough to me. She would certainly have _my_ vote, if I were in her district.”

“There’s a little bit of everybody out there,” Velvet mused, almost to himself. “It’s so strange—unsettling, even—not to be unable to tell them apart, as if the nations no longer mattered.” He stiffened, alert, as if suddenly catching sight of something or someone,

“If you’re done with your tea, why don’t we join them?” Nendo urged them with a grin, not noticing the Velvet's reaction, which was quickly concealed.

_I'm not a joiner,_ Toph waffled privately. But she liked to see Nendo so enthusiastic, so she caved. “All right. What about you, kid?”

“Ah, no, I’d better not. There’s something I need to take care of now," his tone studiously nonchalant.

“But it’s part of the political process,” Nendo argued. “The _fun_ part!”

“It’s not really _my_ process, though, since I don’t live here, not officially. I’m not eligible to vote.” He fidgeted with his tea cup, turning it round and round.

“Suit yourself, kid,” Toph shrugged. Something was up with him. Or maybe he was simply allergic to crowds, the same as her.

Velvet gave himself a little shake and brightened up again, like the shadow had never been there. “My day can hardly be improved from an hour spent in the company of such esteemed and captivating ladies. But Lahar’s oratory will surely eclipse my humble discourse.” And he bowed elegantly and took his leave. Definitely still posh.

* * *

By the time they’d paid and stepped into the street, Toph expected to be at the tail end of the procession, but there were dozens more behind them. Like a snake on a caffeine rush, Lahar’s chain of voters danced and wriggled their way towards the plaza in front of the Governor’s Palace. 

They stepped into the broad, stone-paved square and it was too much, _too much_—packed with people, far more than just the ones in the march. The cacophony, not just of voices, drums, gongs, and noisemakers, but footsteps, bodies rubbing up against each other, lungs, and heartbeats. Private conversations, burps, and body odor. Toph pressed her fists together and focused on her breathing, practicing the meditation techniques Aang had taught her long ago—essential to urban living, she’d found. After a couple minutes of that, she could gradually return her attention to her surroundings—selectively.

Lahar was already standing on the stone dais at one corner of the plaza firing up the crowd.

“Citizens of Yu Dao!”

The crowd responded with a roar and cacophonous banging of anything handy. In front of Toph, a group of laborers done with their workday—burly, stinky guys—clanged their trowels and hammers. A family with three small children stood to her left, the smallest on their father’s shoulders, clapping wildly. A cluster of teenage girls off to the right screamed and giggled, clutching at each other.

“Do we wish to be ruled by the Fire Lord?”

“No!”

“Do we wish to be ruled by the Earth King?”

“No!”

“Do we wish to be ruled by _anyone at all?”_

_“No!!”_

“Then who will rule us?”

“We will!”

“Citizens of the Fifth Nation, are you ready to take command of your fate?”

“We are!”

“On June First, what will you do?”

“Vote! Vote! Vote!”

Nendo stood at Toph’s elbow, bouncing a bit on her toes to see over the crowd. Somewhere behind her and to the left, Toph sensed a familiar, light heartbeat. At first, she thought it was Aang. 

“Citizens the Fifth Nation, so chosen by the Avatar!”

A bit of a stretch—he had simply given the new nation the chance to exist, not chosen its people. But the crowd had no head for nuance and cheered. 

“Citizens of the Fifth Nation, you have been charged with a mission unique in the history of the world!”

Unnecessary cheers. Lahar motioned for everyone to quiet down, with wide sweeps of her arms.

“For more than a hundred years, this city has been unique in the world. We have thrived in here our fertile rice bowl between the sea and the mountains. It is no wonder that those looking for a better life have always come here—traders, colonists, refugees. We could have turned them away, we could have built higher walls to protect our prosperity. But we didn’t.

"Yu Dao is unique. The Fire Nation’s first colony on the Eastern Continent…” A smattering of boos and hisses warred with a few belligerent war whoops—provocateurs, or just assholes. “…we became a hybrid, a bridge unlike anything that had come before. And as the Fire Nation spread its blood into the Earth Kingdom—blood shed in violence, and blood shared in colonial families—it was Yu Dao that held open its gates to those in search of refuge.”

A relative hush had fallen over the audience now, absorbed in her flattering narrative.

“Yu Dao is unique. Here, earthbenders erect our strong walls and straight streets; firebenders power the forges and steam engines that fuel our economy. Sandbenders and firebenders cooperate to create the finest glass arts in the world. From the crucible of our diversity, we _innovate._

“And now we once again dare to imagine something the world has never seen. Together, we will bring to life—”

It shot past her so fast, Toph barely sensed it before Lahar froze, choking on her last word. The candidate lurched against the podium, her heart pounding against it erratically, desperate fingers clutching at it as her legs buckled beneath her.

Those nearest Lahar closed in on her protectively. Hands gripped her, supporting her, lifting her back to her feet. But that was the wrong thing to do, Toph knew intuitively. Lahar’s heart contracted and spasmed, fighting gravity.

“Lay her down! Give her space!” someone shouted. It was too late. By the time Lahar was stretched out on the platform, she was gone.

The plaza erupted in shouts and chaos. No one knew what had happened. Was Lahar ok? Was there a doctor? Who did this?

Armed guards shot through the crowd in all directions, wayward arrows seeking a target.

Lahar was dead. Toph knew this before anybody, and there was nothing she could do to change it. She could find that target, though.

The projectile had come from behind and to her left. Toph turned slowly in place, feeling for the reaction that was different. Nendo, beside her, had her hands pressed over her mouth, sucking in air in a sobbing kind of gasp. Too close to her, too loud.

“Shh, Nendo,” Toph said with dead calm. “Don’t hyperventilate. I need to hear.”

“Hear _what,_ Toph?” Nendo wailed. “Her heartbeat? She’s not dead?”

“I’m listening for the perpetrator. Quiet, please.”

People had a wide range of reactions to shock and violence. Toph had lots of experience with this—all war veterans did. Some people pushed forward, as if to help; a couple of people fainted, or collapsed against their neighbors. Some hearts raced, some hearts skipped beats. Some people lost all self-control, others took control of everyone around them.

Over there behind her was one a little different: holding him or herself perfectly still, pulse fluttering like a bird’s, muscles lax, yet ready to flee, or spring into action, waiting and watching. Oh, she knew this one well. But Velvet had said he couldn’t come—had he changed his mind? …Or lied?

She elbowed her way towards him, shoved off course by the father of the family next to her, intent on getting his kids to safety. Jerk—they weren’t in any danger. A whiff of sandalwood breezed past her—Velvet, fleeing, wriggling through the crowd towards the nearest alleyway like he had someplace to be.

Toph gave chase but another anomaly caught her attention: a heavy man, standing firm, a heartbeat pumping with excitement, but not fear. No uncertainty. Satisfaction? Pride? A pair of guards pushed him aside, he lost his footing and his pulse sped up as he melted into the press of bodies.

Toph almost bent the pavement, thinking to knock everyone down and pick through the bodies till she found both guys. But she didn’t—better to not show her hand, better not to triple the chaos and distress. Instead, she slipped through the crush, staying low, ducking swinging elbows and dodging stumbling feet, heading for the rear of the plaza. 

What she wouldn’t give for an airbender sidekick right now to bounce up and scan from above. She wasn’t sure if Flighty or Steady was her target. It didn’t matter. There was no direction, no pattern to the noisy, frantic bodies. If she’d had trouble filtering when she first got there, it was impossible now. She was blind here.

石 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming very soon...Toph takes the case and gets her nose in the dirt.
> 
> Thank you for reading - I love your comments!


	2. The Sleuth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph takes the case.

石

“Master Toph! Master Toph!”

Pounding on the door gradually penetrated her skull. She rolled off her pallet onto the cold, stone floor and staggered to her feet. “Coming! I heard you the first five times,” she growled, maybe lying just a bit. She must have been miles deep in sleep.

Toph yanked open her door, rubbing gummy eyes. “Jag?”

The guardsman bowed or bobbed or ducked or something. “Good morning, Master Toph. I am so sorry to disturb you. But the Governor urgently requests a meeting with you.”

Had he caught wind of what she’d been up to the night before, prowling the streets till dawn, sniffing for those suspects she’d lost just after the assassination? But she’d’ve known if anyone had been tailing _her._

“Um, please take some time to pull yourself together, of course.” Jag sounded uncomfortable, turning his face away. She was probably somehow indecent.

Toph shut the door in his face without a word. Ten minutes later, she was dressed and washed (enough) and striding down the cobblestones to the Governor’s Palace.

“Toph! Thank goodness.” Governor Fosek seized her by the shoulders as they entered the building. For a moment, she thought he was going to embrace her. Remembering himself, he let her go. “My daughter. It’s my daughter. Do you know who did it? Did you see it?” He was nearly weeping.

“I’m sorry, Governor, I don’t.” It didn’t seem like the time to snark on his word choice. “I tried to identify the, uh, perpetrator, but I couldn’t be sure of anything in the confusion.”

“Oh, Toph, Toph.” He smothered his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. Lahar! _They’ve killed my Lahar!”_ And then he actually began to sob.

“I know, Governor.” Toph took his hand and guided him to a chair (at least, she was pretty sure it was a chair). The old man was a complete mess. She honestly didn’t know what to do with that. “I came when you called.”

“Yes, yes you did.” He took some shaky breaths to steady himself.

“So…was there a specific reason?”

“Master Toph, I’m so glad you could make it.” A new presence entered the room. No less grave, but firmly in control of herself. She strode across the room, a large woman with purposeful steps. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met, but I know you, of course.” She held out her hands in a motherly gesture.

“You’re Lady Sekiei, the Governor’s wife. No need for the formalities.”

“Indeed. Under the circumstances.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Lahar was an extraordinary person. People loved her.” She squeezed the lady’s hands.

“Thank you, Master Toph.” She squeezed back a little too tightly. That and the tremor she reined in revealed what her composure hid.

“I take it you don’t yet know what happened?” 

“Sekiei and I weren’t even there—the one rally we missed. We don’t know where to begin!” Fosek wailed. His wife laid a hand on him, pressed down, and he quieted.

“There were hundreds of witnesses, of course. But unfortunately, that’s simply meant that there are hundreds of versions of the story. We know her throat was pierced by a sharp projectile of some kind. But where did it come from? Who shot it? How did they do it? _Why?_ We need find the truth. It’s about more than just our daughter. This is a threat to the entire Fifth Nation project.”

“You’re assuming it was politically motivated.” 

“What else could it be? And that is why we called you. You’re astute, well connected, and yet not entangled in the election. Master Toph, we would like to engage your services to find the murderer and bring them to justice.”

“_Find_ the scum who did this, Toph,” Fosek growled.

“Isn’t this a job for the Guard?”

“The Guard is tasked with keeping the peace. They chase down criminals, but they don’t solve crimes. You, Master Toph, have special talents. And, I’ve heard, an uncommonly penetrating mind. You see things that others don’t.”

Maybe she had a point. “I’m not Dai Li. I don’t like sneaking around. But I might be able to help you out. As a friend.”

“We had in mind something a bit more formal, actually,” Sekiei clarified. “We would like you to lead the investigation. Since Lahar was a legally confirmed candidate on the ballot, killed while actively campaigning for office, City Council has determined that this is a state affair. You’d be given the authority to question witnesses and hold suspects. We’ll provide whatever staffing you require. And you’d be paid.”

This had some appeal—a fascinating puzzle, minions of her own. And she would see justice done. But there were some serious downsides, too. It flirted dangerously politics—and worse, bureaucracy. 

“Professionally, I don’t come cheap….”

“Name your price. Money is no object,” the Governor assured her, recovering some of his usual authority. “We will supplement the Council’s offer with private funds if necessary. Whatever it takes.”

She did care what had happened to Lahar. And to her city. The nation would start out on shaky foundations if the killer was not brought to justice, and publicly. She checked on Jag, erect and alert behind her, silent but listening. He was a good guy. Trustworthy and competent, but not uptight. People liked him. “I’d want to handpick my team.”

“Of course. We never imagined otherwise.”

Toph’s mind was already buzzing: death by projectile, type and origin unknown, several hundred potential suspects, motive…anyone loved by so many was bound to be hated by a few, too. Lahar had opponents in the election, obviously. And the girl hadn’t always been such a sunshiney nugget of optimism. She’d been part of a militant cell of resistance opposing the Fire Lord during the Harmony Restoration period—connected somehow to one of the attempts to assassinate Zuko. Had _she_ committed any crimes? How much of that militant radicalism was still there, beneath the candidate’s smiles? Who would know? Who could Toph trust to be discreet yet nosy? 

“Fine, I’ll do it. Let’s get started.”

* * *

Boxed in by facades of government offices and some of Yu Dao’s finest homes, all in granite and limestone, the normally bustling palace plaza was silent as an empty grave today, a pocket of nothing in the stone forest of heartbeats and footsteps. Even the street peddlers stayed away. A stray cat darted along the edge. A door shut gently, muffling voices inside. The pavement was slate; the platform Lahar had spoken from was a substantial granite block set at the opposite end of the square from the Governor’s Palace. Toph crouched before it now, palms flat to the stone, feeling for…what? Echoes of a murder?

The weapon hadn’t been found, so there was that. Shot clean through the neck, severing her carotid artery but missing her spine, Lahar had bled out fast, and the human body held a lot of blood. They’d tried to scrub the stones clean, but Toph could still smell the flat, iron bite of the blood, soaked into the crumb of the mortar between the flagstones, under the sour odor of the vinegar they’d used to clean it. The blood wasn’t gone, but any useful evidence of the crime sure seemed to be.

Toph extended her fingers, gripping the texture of the stone, pressing into it just slightly, and followed the even grain of the slate, radiating her senses outward along the rivulets of mortar, under the dusting of boot-scuffed dirt…a stray pebble, a row of ants marching off on ant business, a bent nail, a…what was that? 

Small and narrow, a sliver…she followed her senses around to the back of the podium, still on her hands and knees. Just a shard of a broken dish or something, something a peddler discarded, most likely. It had fallen into a crack between two flagstones where the mortar had worn away. She lifted it with her bending and laid it in her palm. It was ceramic, but not crockery—much finer. And yes, it was broken along one edge, but it was nearly complete, and shaped with professional skill into an blade an inch or so long, sleek and sharp at one end, widening smoothly to an aerodynamic flare at the end. She ran a finger along it, loosening a few dry flakes that smelled distinctly of blood.

Jag squatted next to her. “I never would have seen that. It’s almost the same color as the pavement. What is it?”

“An arrowhead without an arrow.” She showed it too him.

“It’s so tiny.”

“We weren’t supposed to find it.”

Light footsteps pattered over.

“Are you all right, Master Toph?”

“Hey, Velvet.” She slipped the projectile into her pocket. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just, you know, passing by.” He gestured vaguely behind him. “And I saw you on the ground.”

“If you find me on the ground, you find me where I’m supposed to be. You were here yesterday.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oh! Yeah, I, uh, changed my mind.” That wasn’t the whole truth.

“Why didn’t you join us? We weren’t far from where you were standing.”

“You were? I looked, but I guess I missed you. And then, I saw—after it happened—wasn’t it awful?” The horror was real, in the quake in his voice, but she couldn’t help feeling there was an undercurrent of thrill. Well, he’d hardly be the only one titillated by the spectacle of death.

“Great. You can be our first witness.” She seized him by the elbow and propelled him down an alley to an unobtrusive office building adjoining the rear of the palace.

She’d been assigned an office—just a basic, ground-floor space with a large desk and a couple of chairs. There were a couple more rooms behind for her use, but she didn’t know what she’d need them for. She propelled Velvet to the center of the room and bent him a seat out of the stone floor, ignoring the wooden furniture. She stood directly in front of him, arms folded. Jag stood by the door, like the guardsman that he was.

“Kiza. Tell me what happened. In your own words.”

“Is this, uh, an Avatar thing or something?"

“Aang doesn’t get involved in Yu Dao…details.” She’d almost said “politics,” but that was only Sekiei’s assumption. “He’s not around, anyway. I’m investigating on behalf of the City Council and Lahar’s parents.”

“Oh. I thought you didn’t want to work for the government.”

“This is about justice.” She leaned forward, close enough to smell him, green tea and adrenalin. “What made you change your mind? Why did you go to the rally?”

She expected him to recoil. He didn’t. With a slow inhale, his heart pounding a bit heavier, and posture perfect, he started to speak. “Lahar was already well into her speech when I got there. All the noisemakers had quieted down, but it still looked like a festival—flags and banners around the square in every color of the rainbow like a great flock of budgie-snakes.”

His performance picked up steam, finding the flow, his limbs animated and no longer tense. “She is quite compelling speaker—_was_, I mean. Her flair for the dramatic rivaled the finest orators in Ba Sing Se. I’ve heard her compared to the Avatar, and in her delivery, that is a fair comparison. It’s no wonder she has built up such a loyal following. Every point she made from the podium was greeted with thunderous applause and ululations. _Charisma_—that’s what it is.

“But there’s one way she’s quite different from the Avatar—no, two ways. First, she is much more grounded—”

“Who isn’t?” Toph muttered under her breath.

“—in that she has solid ideas—_concrete_ plans—so detailed that they should send the audience into fogs of ennui, yet she imbues her words with such passion and color, that they hang on her every word. And yet her proposals seem pragmatic. One could envision her actually _governing_.”

Kid had swallowed a thesaurus. “So you were playing it cool with us yesterday. Sounds like you’d’ve killed for a spot on her publicity team.”

“Uhh…well. I admire her, certainly.” He paused, choosing his words too carefully. “And I assumed she would prevail in the election.”

“And what was the second difference from Aang?”

“I don’t know him that well—certainly not as well as you do,” he equivocated. “But the Avatar seems to mean exactly what he says. There is no artifice, no pretension. He’s genuine.”

“…Sure.” Occasionally a liar, but… “Not a schemer, is what you’re saying.”

“Right. I trust his intentions.”

Toph nodded approvingly, then leaned in. “You didn’t trust Lahar.”

“She has a history, doesn’t she?” He dropped his voice conspiratorially, as if anyone but Jag was listening in. “I’ve heard she was involved in an assassination attempt on the Fire Lord.”

“She didn’t do it personally. A friend of hers.”

“Still, she conspired. The ends justified the means for her, doesn’t it? She’ll do whatever it takes.”

_So would any of us,_ Toph thought. _If we hadn’t, this continent would be a pile of ashes._ “What’s your point?”

Velvet seemed to pick up on Toph’s defensive tone. “I’m only wondering if she wants to go farther than her inspiring words would suggest. She wants a new world where the nations and the elements live together in harmony. But would she burn down the old world to get it? Who would she be willing to hurt?” 

“Lahar was just a kid when her friend tried to kill Zuko. Kids do crazy things.”

“_We’re_ kids, Toph. I wouldn’t do that. Would you?”

Toph had a lot of reactions to that and no time to sort them out. She brushed them aside. “Enough politics. Let’s get back to your eyewitness account. What did you see—and _who?”_

“Well, let’s see,” he leaned back a little, apparently as relieved as she was to return to more concrete matters. “I was looking for you, but never found you. I did see some of the Air Acolytes: Hei Won, Balam, that new guy—Xi? And who’s the pretty one?”

“Uh….” She thought back to things she’d overheard, and Aang’s fluttery pulse. “Yee Li?”

“Yes, that’s her. And—are you writing this down? You should be writing this down.”

Toph tapped her noggin. “Don’t worry kid, it’s all in here.”

“But how are you going to share my testimony? You need to report to someone, don’t you? Can you repeat everything I’ve said word for word? That would take a long time.”

He had a point. Toph imagined herself reporting to Fosek and Sekiei and the Council. _Toph, could you review the testimony of Acolyte Xing Ying? No, not that part, the part before the part where she freaked over the blood….And you’re certain she said the man had an earring in his left ear, not his right? _ “Yeah, ok. Jag, can you take notes?”

“Um. Of course, Master Toph….” The guard began to rifle through the drawers of the desk, pulling out a sheaf of rustling paper and thunking an inkstone onto the desktop. He sat himself down and carefully placed his forearms on either side of the paper, brush poised. 

“I think you’re gonna need some water.”

“Right.” He carefully poured some from his canteen onto the inkstone and rubbed the inkblock onto it very deliberately. “Ok, ready.”

Velvet had watched all this without a word, but Toph could feel his suppressed impatience. “I saw Acolytes Hei Won, Balam, Yee Li, and—”

“Hold up, hold up. How do you write ‘acolyte’?”

“It’s the ‘person’ radical on the left and then ‘temple’ on the right—that’s the first character….” Kiza explained without hesitation.

Even through the wooden tabletop, Toph could feel the tension in Jag’s arm and neck, painstakingly laying down the brushstrokes. “That’s ok, Jag.” He released the brush immediately with an exhale. “Velvet, why don’t you write it down yourself after you’re done telling me, and Jag can verify it for me?”

Velvet inclined his head graciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

“So in addition to the four Acolytes…?”

“Let’s see…there were at least a couple more in that group, but I don’t know their names. 

He leaned forward suddenly. “Oh—you know who _else_ was there?”

“Don’t keep me guessing." 

_“That bandit who tried to rob me!”_

“The waterbender?” Who hadn’t targeted Velvet specifically, to be fair, that winter day a year and a half ago, just held up a river ferry and zeroed in on the wealthiest passenger.

“No, no. I mean the other bandit, in the woods. Or rather, his boss, the short boy, very political. I can’t remember what you called him…”

“Smellerbee. She’s a girl—more or less. I wouldn’t think Lahar’s message would be her thing.”

“I know, right? She talked like a committed purist, that night. A real Earther.” There was a real conspiratorial glee in his voice that half irritated, half amused her—like a gossiping society girl. Toph agreed with his political assessment, though.

“Was she alone?”

“No, she had an archer with her and some other friends. An _archer!_ They were standing pretty far from Lahar—it would have been a tricky target.” Velvet ended on a coy note, teasing her with false skepticism. “Do you suppose it was the same archer who had you pinned, that night in the woods? I can’t help but remember that you had no doubts as to his ability to hit you in the dark.” Kid was definitely had one of those knowing grins you hear about.

“Longshot could have made the target,” she conceded, though she knew the weapon wasn’t exactly an arrow.

“So _that’s_ certainly interesting.” Velvet sat back smugly. “They seemed to be having a awfully good time, laughing it up.”

“Doesn’t sound like a murder conspiracy.”

“Maybe they were enjoying it. _Maybe they’re psychopaths!”_

“Maybe,” she humored him. Whatever the case, she would definitely be bringing those Freedom Fighters—People’s Earth Nation patriots, or whatever—in for questioning.

“Was there anyone else you recognized at the scene?”

“Oh, sure, many. But that might be all whose names I know. I will certainly let you know if I run across any of them in my peregrinations about the city, Master Toph!”

“In your—? Never mind. What did you see of the murder itself?”

His voice lifted into storytelling mode again. “I was held so rapt by Lahar’s oration that, while I did witness the moment of the strike, it was several heartbeats before I comprehended what had transpired. She froze, and then slumped.” His dramatic delivery faltered. “I didn’t even see what struck her. It was just suddenly…there was blood _everywhere_. And screaming.”

“Yeah, I heard that part.” Somehow the memory of it gave her more of a chill than the actual experience had.

“And afterwards? Did you observe anything unusual in the reactions around you?”

“Oh, yes! Smellery and her friends dashed off right away.” He leaned forward again. “I think that is decidedly suspicious, don’t you?”

Toph didn’t bite. “And where did _you_ dash off to?”

“Me? I—uh—.” Velvet’s heart missed a beat, then started fluttering like a rabbit’s. “I just…kind of freaked out.”

That’s not what he’d felt like yesterday. She’d sensed purpose in his biorhythms—urgency, but not panic. He’d been, at the very least, in control of his own body. She was getting more anxiety off him now than she had then. Interesting. 

“You should have come with Nendo and me. We would have looked out for you.”

“Yeah, maybe I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I had something to take care of first—I left something at the forge and had to go back and get it.”

That was an out-and-out lie. She bent a sort of pillar out of the center of the floor and leaned back against it, arms folded.

“You’re staying at Ginna’s Inn?”

His heartbeat stuttered again, caught off guard by her unexpected question, then recovered. “That’s right. As Nendo mentioned.”

Good choice. Clean, comfortable, safe—it was also perfect for a quick getaway, straight out the eastern gates. Toph studied the kid silently, letting his discomfort climb. She knew he was hiding something, and he knew that she knew. (He’d better know, anyway, or she’d be disappointed in him.)

“I’ll send word for you there if I have further questions, then.” She nodded curtly, concluding the interview.

“Oh, absolutely! I am ever at your service, Master Toph.” And he stood and bowed formally, with such flawless poise that Toph couldn’t quite tell where on the spectrum of respectful to obsequious it lay.

“If you would, please write out your testimony now, for the record.” Ugh—he’d infected her with his gentility. She jabbed a thumb towards the desk in a coarse gesture, and flopped down to wait on the stone seat he’d vacated.

Velvet sent on his way, his testimony “filed” (shoved in a drawer), Toph found herself with a couple of helpful leads, but far more questions than she’d started with.

But her next target was simple enough: the Number One Most Obvious Suspect, Gow. It was _too_ obvious, really—who would murder their only opponent? Publicly? But Gow was a dumbass. 

“You live in the Northwest District, right Jag?”

“Yeah, right up near the wall on Limestone Alley, with my mom and younger brothers.”

That was a pretty humble neighborhood. “You’re the breadwinner, then?”

“Had to be, from a young age.”

“And you were going to vote for Lahar?”

“Was there even a choice?”

“Apparently? Why is Gow even a candidate? Who supports him?”

“Oh, you know. Old farts, who think that only Earth Kingdom men who hurl rocks can lead.”

“There aren’t a whole lot of those in our district.”

“More than you’d think. They keep to themselves, mostly, playing Pits and Stones and grumbling. Gow, though, he’s from the Heartland.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been here long, has he? A carpetbagger?”

Jag shrugged. “He’s hardly unusual.” Yu Dao’s population had nearly doubled since the end of the war.

The lane they were following opened up into a lopsided public square, ringed by flats that teetered towards the sky, the higher floors built on as afterthoughts. Shops occupied the ground floors—practical enterprises selling rice, brown paper, cotton twine, and tobacco. It was old—for Yu Dao. The limestone details framing the shop doors had worn down to vague lumps, and even the granite steps had lost their sharp edges.

Toph led the way to the saloon that dominated one side of the square, pushed open the double doors and made her entrance.

“Gow here?”

All heads swiveled. Except for Gow’s; he was already facing the door, holding court at a round table in the center of the room.

“Toph. What an honor.” He didn’t stand.

“You’re wanted for questioning. On the authority of the Council.”

“Oh, well, I’d better get my booties on and hustle.” His sycophants laughed heartily. It wasn’t that funny.

“Jag?” She made a quick sharp gesture towards the suspect, one that hid her subtle earthbending twitches.

The guardsman marched up to the candidate (a couple of Gow’s men tried to intercept, but found their feet had sunk into the floor), seized his elbow from behind and marched him to the door. Gow struggled a bit, but when the building itself started ushering him out, he didn’t have a lot of choice.

“Why you—” he snarled at Toph as she politely gestured for him to exit before her, simultaneously scooting the floor under his feet towards the door.

“If I were you, I’d make it look like you’re coming along graciously,” Toph advised in an undertone. “Or do you want them to see that you can’t outbend a girl?” She gave him a wickedly sweet smile.

He straightened up with a jolt and stepped briskly out into the square without another complaint.

Back at the office, she made him in a somewhat more confining stone chair than she’d offered Velvet. She planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips. And waited. Jag was going to fetch someone from the Governor’s office to transcribe the interview. Toph used the opportunity to stare at Gow without blinking. It really unnerved people.

“What is this about? I am a candidate for public office. I refuse to be bullied into submission by—by the _government_. Who are you working for, little girl? You said the Council—I don’t see any councilmen here. Don’t think that just because you’re such a sneaky-fucking bender you can haul law-abiding citizens around wherever you want. Oh, no. I’ve got _people_. I’ve got support in _high places._ Who will not be happy with you.”

Interestingly, he did not budge from that chair, even though she hadn’t actually pinned him there…yet.

A scribe finally showed up and Toph started in without preamble.

“Where were you yesterday afternoon between the hours of three and four?”

“Why, enjoying the fine words of my honorable opponent, of course.”

“Do you usually go to Lahar’s rallies?”

“Wouldn’t want the competition to get the edge on me.”

“Do you usually go to Lahar’s rallies?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why did you go to this one?”

“I was free. There was a big crowd. Including _my_ supporters—they like to make sure our side is heard, too.” By which he meant heckling. Toph had heard them on the far side of the square, then studiously blocked them out.

Gow claimed to have arrived in plenty of time for the event (true), where he attracted so much admiration from the ladies, it detracted from the main event (lie). He allowed his supporters to jeer at their opponents (true), because men gotta be men and let out their righteous passions (whatever). He, however, kept a dignified distance from their antics and paid close attention to Lahar’s speech (yeah, right). When Toph asked him to name everyone in his posse, he rattled them off as fast as the scribe could take them down.

His account of the murder itself basically lined up with Velvet’s.

“It came out of nowhere. No shot, no weapon, just a shitload of blood.” Gow leaned forward with a new intensity. “You know who you should take a look at? They say a waterbender can do that kind of thing: pull the blood straight out of a man. Or a girl. Call in _Bing.”_

“Why the hell would Bing want to kill her? He’s the Water-At-Large candidate—and not even up against Lahar. He’d be better off with _her_ in the Congress than _you.”_

Confusion gripped Gow for a second—obviously, he hadn’t thought this insinuation through. “I’m just sayin’.” He folded his arms over his chest defensively.

Time to wrap this up. If Gow had actually wanted to kill Lahar, he would have just clobbered her with a hammer. “Ok, any idea who _else_ might have done it?”

“Not a clue.” That…wasn’t the truth. Toph took a step closer, thinking back on everything he said and everything she knew about him.

“How come you had that list of names memorized?”

His heart skipped a beat, thrown off balance. “What? I didn’t. You think I don’t know the names of my own supporters? I’m an experienced military commander. I’m not some thug straight off the street. I don’t have to take this.” He started to stand up. But that wasn’t going to happen. The chair held him firmly.

“I wasn’t aware you were in the military. Which division?”

“Reserves, patrolling the Central Plains.” Which was a fancy way of saying he was in some kind of ragtag militia. “Honorably defending the kingdom from ash eaters. I even bested the Prince of the Fire Nation once, the insolent little prick!”

Toph waited for the wheels to click in his mind: _…that insolent prick is now Fire Lord…Gow’s interrogator being one of the Fire Lord’s closest friends…who currently has him at her mercy._

“I mean…” he shifted uncomfortably in the chair “…dueled him. Honorably.”

“Sure you did.” It was a half truth, at least. She’d get the story from Zuko someday. “And you came to Yu Dao to take the sea airs?”

“You think I wanted to spend the rest of my life on that dried out cow chip? I was always going places,” he retorted. “And I don’t appreciate your sarcasm. I, at least, respect the hardworking citizens of Yu Dao, and I want to make sure earthbenders are properly represented on our own land. _Don’t you?”_

“I’m not particularly worried about it, to be honest. Did you already know someone here?”

“My men came with me. We had connections to like-minded folk and strengthened that brotherhood once we got here. They are the backbone of my campaign. We’ve got muscle, and we’re well connected.”

“To who, exactly?”

“Now, that list I don’t have memorized,” he mocked her. “All the factions of the Earth Kingdom who don’t want to see Yu Dao mongrelized? Who want the end of the war to mean something? That’s a lot of folks.”

“You do know that the Earth Kingdom didn’t win the war, don’t you? It was the Fire Lord who stood down.”

“So what?” He bristled. “That’s no reason for us to roll over and get ourselves—but that’s not for a child’s ears,” he broke off with a patronizing smile.

She turned her back on him, pretending to check the scribe’s work, releasing the chair with a flick of her fingers. “You know what? You can go.” She had enough to work with here.

He stood, but didn’t move. “Master Toph.”

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. Not like she needed to make eye contact.

“Your disrespect will be remembered.” And he left, not quietly.

* * *

The ceramic chimes over the door tinkled cheerfully. A bustling swish of skirts from the region of the hearth and the clatter of a poker being stashed in its rack answered Toph’s arrival. 

“Toph! What a lovely surprise!” Ginna drew near and embraced her briefly. She was the sort of person Toph could tolerate a hug from every now and then. It was the woman’s nature, and you don’t argue with nature.

“Always good to see you, Ginna.”

“Come, sit down. What can I get for you?”

“Just information today.” 

“Oh? Something to do with the metal traders again?”

“Not that I know of—not that concerns you, anyway.” There was a customer nursing an early drink at the bar, so Toph sidled over to the fire at the opposite end of the room with a quick gesture to the innkeeper. “You have a guest by the name of Kiza?”

“Oh, we love Kiza. He stays with me every time he visits. So kind and thoughtful, and spins the most imaginative stories for the other guests by the hearth some nights—most observant for one so young. And _exceptionally_ courteous. He even made me those clever chimes.” She gestured towards the door Toph had come in by. “What would you want to know about him?”

“Do you happen to remember if you saw him day before yesterday, in the afternoon?”

“You mean—are you investigating Lahar’s murder?” Ginna was not a slow one, she’d give her that. 

“He was on the scene, a witness. Did you see him before or after the rally?”

“Yes, after…” Ginna gathered her thoughts. “It was getting near to dinner time and guests were starting to arrive. He shuffled in, out of sorts somehow. And he’s usually such a ray of sunshine. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ I asked him. He’s spent so much time at my inn, I’ve come to feel rather motherly towards him, you know. First, he asked how we were—always so considerate. ‘It’s a tragedy, Ginna,’ he said—and for once that was no exaggeration. He told me all about the murder. Of course, I’d heard already—this was a good hour or so after it happened—but we got a much better picture from Kiza’s telling—we always do. Pretty soon, the whole room was listening and he was lighting up again, back in his element.” Ginna went on to give a more concise version of pretty much the same tale Kiza had spun yesterday. So that checked out. 

“Later on, I did ask him privately, because he’d seemed so…on edge.”

“On edge—like, afraid? Anticipating something? Or…regretting?”

“Maybe. But I suspect it was just the shock catching up to him. He’d kept it at bay as long as he had had something to do, but by nighttime there’s nothing left but the thinking.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Oh, no,” she dismissed the idea. “Teenagers, you know. They never want to let you in when you could actually _help_. He put me off with a non-answer and shuffled off to his room.”

There was no reason to remind Ginna that Toph was no more than a few months older than Velvet. She couldn’t remember the last time someone who actually knew her had thought of her as a kid. “Did he tell you where he was between the rally and returning to the inn?”

“I didn’t think to ask. The streets were in chaos. It could have taken him a while to get back. And knowing him, he would have tried to stay and help.”

Maybe Ginna didn’t know him as well as she thought. “Were any of your other guests at the scene? Did you hear any other versions of events?”

“Hm…Ravsan?” she called across the room. “Didn’t you say you saw something?”

Toph turned toward the customer, noting Ginna’s familiar tone.

“Only barely. Just passing through.”

Ginna snorted. “No, not _your_ scene at all.”

“Ravsan is your…?”

“My brother, visiting from the Fire Nation. He’s not really a…well, I’ll let you speak for yourself,” she raised her voice toward him. “I would just say it the wrong way.”

“There’s nothing to it, Ginna.” Ravsan swiveled towards them in his seat without getting up. “Fire is Fire, Earth is Earth. And this Fifth Nation lunacy is an abomination.” He tipped back his cup and drained it.

“Not a Lahar supporter, then,” Toph surmised.

“_She_ is an abomination.”

“Don’t hold back, or anything,” she muttered.

“You know who she was, right? Part of that militant cell that actually tried to _assassinate the Fire Lord._ Agni protect him. And her own father a Fire Nation official, sworn to the royal flame for life! Of course her mother’s the opposite, so it’s no wonder she’s a two-faced traitor—this is _why_ blood should never mix. She shouldn’t even exist.

“And a girl like that presumes to _lead?_ Or whatever. Is a Congresswoman a ‘leader’? Seems like they’re mostly gonna sit around and bicker, from what I can see. And now you people want to ‘elect’ them, through an even bigger bickering process. The world’s going to shit. Almost makes you wish for that bloody war to come back.”

Ginna sighed heavily. “He’s had a hard time of it, since we were repatriated from Palgan Colony,” she murmured into Toph’s ear. “I came back Earth-side for Nendo, as you know, but Ravsan is staunchly Fire Nation, veteran of the Fire Army and all. In the Fatherland, though, he’s ‘from the colonies,’ practically an interloper, as far as the locals are concerned. So he comes to see me a lot, but he, uh, doesn’t like it much here.”

“I can hear you, Ginna,” Ravsan grumbled.

“I’m concerned because I love you,” she answered gently but firmly.

“The thing is, Ravsan, Lahar _doesn’t_ exist any more. What do you know about that?” Toph moved towards him, sliding her feet along the stone flagstones. His heart rate was sluggish—as you’d expect from a morning drinker who probably hadn’t so much as taken a walk yet today—but loud, like his political views.

“Know? I don’t _know_ anything. I was out the other day, just wandering around, and I heard the rally. I should have just kept going, but curiosity got the better of me, so I stuck my nose in.” He paused to stare into his empty cup, thought better of a refill, and continued. “And I saw the girl slump over, bleeding like a fountain, and the crowd panicking. That’s it.”

“Did you see anyone flee the scene?”

“Only me. I wanted nothing to do with it.” He turned away from her and emptied his cup. “Still don’t. I’d best be going. Very nice to make your acquaintance.” He shuffled off the barstool and headed for the door.

He wasn’t lying, for what it was worth (except on the last point, of course). “Well, Ravsan, you’ve been a tremendous help.” Sarcasm intended.

“Excuse my brother. He’s usually not this bad. He drinks too much, but usually not in the mornings.” Ginna shook her head.

“Something’s upset him, you think?”

“You’re _not_ upset? Didn’t you witness the murder yourself?”

_The detective doesn’t have that luxury_, Toph thought. “Ginna, let me know if you hear anything more from any of your guests. Particularly Kiza—there’s something he’s not telling me. And any talk on the streets you pick up.”

“I’ll be sure to, but Kiza couldn’t possibly be involved in anything like that.”

“You’d be surprised what’s possible. Send word to the Governor’s office. Or my place. Or—oh!” she dug around in her pockets and pulled out a small card to give her. “I’ve got an office now.”

“Very nice, Toph!” Ginna sounded so proud of her, Toph almost blushed.

“And a team. Well—Jag, to start.” 

“So you’re hiring?”

Hiring? Toph hadn’t really thought of it that way. But she did have funds. “I am, actually. Know anyone? Someone observant, loyal, good in a fight.” What else? What was it Aang said he’d found in her? “Someone who knows how to listen and wait. But act when they need to.”

“Oh, is that all?” Ginna said with a laugh, somehow warm even when she was being sarcastic. “Well, have you considered taking Kiza? He’d do well to have more of an occupation, and he’d be loyal to you as a dolphin-puppy.”

Velvet did seem a bit fixated on Toph, but was it hero worship, a crush, or something more sinister? Technically, being under investigation should disqualify him from a job. But she wanted more opportunity to figure him out—maybe if she kept him close, she could keep an eye on him. So to speak.

After checking in with Jag and the stacks of porcelain plates he’d collected from households and vendors around the plaza (none matched the shard), the rest of the day was spent tediously tracking down other eye witnesses. It always amazed her how unobservant sighted people were: “What even killed her? All of a sudden she was dead!” …. “I simply thought she was having a bit of a spell. I didn’t realize she had been _murdered_ until everyone around me began wailing. And I was quite confused at first because what she’d been saying was so optimistic.” …. “Wait, Lahar is _dead?”_

It was well after sundown and the streets were empty when Toph called it a day and headed for home, a slurry of information churning through her brain.

She had two, maybe three suspects: Gow, Ravsan, and Velvet. She didn’t really believe Velvet had it in him to kill someone, or even conspire to. And he had no reason to—not that she could see. But he definitely knew something he wasn’t telling. Gow had motive in buckets, and was dumb enough to try, but too dumb to pull it off. He probably thought he was mastermind material, though, and he knew something. Either one of them might have conspirators, might let something slip, if she were lurking nearby. But she couldn’t tail both of them _and_ continue to follow other leads.

And Ravsan? Motive, opportunity, and probably brains, if somewhat pickled. The apathy could be an act. But he hadn’t lied. She played back his words in her head. Straightforward and honest…but not very specific. Plenty of holes in his narrative. What if his regrets were more general, for something he’d stuck his nose in before? Just because he didn’t _want_ to be involved, didn’t mean he wasn’t. And if he'd done something he didn't want to, wouldn't that be a good reason to blink himself into oblivion?

Lost in thought, Toph had slowed almost to a standstill, her footsteps nearly soundless. Quiet enough to detect the other heartbeat.

There were no other feet on the ground. She was pretty sure there were no windows along this back alley, no one peering out from a wood-floored room. But someone was there, above and a bit ahead of her, right around where the eaves should be. She shifted her foot silently along the cobblestones, extending her senses up the wall where fingers and bare toes gripped the mud plaster, adhering the watcher to the wall like a…gecko.

“Gotcha.” A flick of her wrist and the plaster disintegrated to dust—apologies to the residents—and a lithe little man was writhing on the pavement in confusion. She waited till he’d righted himself on all fours. “How’ve you been, Gecko? It’s been a minute.”

He skittered back—that was the only word for it—looking to escape, so she cuffed his ankle with a cobblestone, stepping towards him.

“What’s the rush? You don’t have a minute for an old colleague?”

“Blind Bandit.” The Gecko kowtowed awkwardly. “I mean, um, Miss Beifong. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so, so sorry!” He was practically licking her feet. And while she could see some appeal to that, the Gecko definitely wasn’t the one she wanted doing it. She gave him some space, trying to remember what he thought he’d done to her. The Blind Bandit had kicked _his_ ass. Repeatedly and without fail. And she definitely wasn’t going to apologize for that.

“Hey, we’re cool.”

“Oh, thank the Spirits!” He sat back on his heels in relief as she released his shackle. “I thought you were going to pulverize me on sight. So I hid under the eaves when I saw you coming and tried not to breathe. But damn, you’re _good,_ Miss Beifong.”

“Call me Toph. And did you, uh, do something to me?”

After a gaping silence, “The kidnapping? And ransom? And double-crossing? It was Xin Fu’s idea, though—_all_ him.”

Toph had completely forgotten about that caper, like a troubled dream from a different lifetime, before she’d even run away from home. It seemed so innocent compared with literally everything that followed. “Of course it was. Xin Fu can fuck an ostrich-horse. How’ve you been, Gecko? What brings you to Yu Dao?”

Gecko sprang to his feet, light as an airbender. “Just seeking my fortune, roaming the continent. You know how it is. The Gaoling Earth Rumble sort of fell apart when Xin Fu disappeared, so I’ve been traveling the circuit. I came here to try the Cross-Element Rumble, but it’s hard to get in. You know there’s an actual waitlist there?”

“Uh-huh. I coach occasionally.”

“Ah, of course. You wouldn’t compete any more, would you? The Avatar’s sifu,” he added in a tone of awe, “You always were destined for great things.”

“Yeah, well, post-war life’s a little more mundane. Hunting down bad guys in back alleys. What are you up to, anyway?” She sharpened her tone, just for the fun of it. “In this particular back alley?”

“Me?” he squeaked flinging his hands up. “Oh, I am an honest man, Miss—Toph. It’s been a long day digging for work and I’m heading back to the boarding house.” He sighed when she smiled. “I'm a good bender in a fight, but that’s all I know how to do—all anyone wants to pay me for, anyway.”

He _was_ a good bender. Clever, patient—not as patient as Toph herself, but he knew how to hold back and wait. And _sneaky_. He was sincere, too. Toph didn’t know the first thing about him, outside of the ring, but everything he’d said to her was upfront. In fact, she didn’t remember him ever lying to her (maybe to Xin Fu, but who didn’t).

He broke into her thoughts. “You wouldn’t have any leads? Job tips?”

“Actually…I’m hiring.”

石

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - would love your comments!
> 
> Who do you think did it?


	3. A New Candidate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious messenger hawk, a chat with Aang's Acolytes, a charismatic candidate Toph can't read, intricate bending, and blood money in a dark alley.

石 

After running through half a dozen government scribes in two days—too slow, too busy, too obsequious, too smelly, too loud with the breathing—Toph had to admit she needed someone with more refined skills and a more tolerable presence. She resigned herself to the obvious solution—conflict of interest be damned.

Next morning, first thing, she went back to Ginna’s Inn and knocked on Velvet’s door. His room was on the second floor (unfortunately), but she wanted to catch him in his natural habitat, unawares.

“Who is it?”

She opened the door in answer. His breathing placed him at the opposite end of the room somewhere near the open window. A small lump of clay spun slowly in midair near his head, shaping itself into a ball, becoming an ever more perfect sphere on each rotation.

“You didn’t tell me you’re an earthbender.”

He yelped. Ok, she’d entered without invitation, but she’d hardly been stealthy.

“Oh, I, uh, hi Toph! I’m barely a bender. Not impressive at all, very weak,” he babbled.

Maybe, but fully in control. The ball of clay hadn’t so much as bobbled, even when he freaked out. No doubt he’d had the best training money could buy—though in her experience, money didn’t buy all that much.

“So? It’s part of who you are. You shouldn’t hide it.”

“Not a part of me I’m particularly proud of. Especially next to you.”

“Why would you compare yourself to me? Show me what you can do.”

The kid hesitated, unwilling, then caved under her unwavering attention. The little ball of clay began turning again. He seemed to be examining it with some thought, prodding it gently with his bending, his fingers weaving intricate patterns before him. Gradually, it began to spin faster and faster on a stable axis, picking up speed and taking on a symmetrical shape. Like potter’s wheel. A miniature potter’s wheel in midair. In a couple of minutes, he had produced an exquisite little urn, smooth and fine as a bird’s egg and just big enough to hold a single lychee nut. 

Kiza placed in the palm of Toph’s hand with a simple bow.

“For you.” And there was nothing but truth in the way he said it.

It was perfect, balanced and elegant in a shape she found inexplicably pleasing.

“You’re a man of many talents.” She couldn’t help but smile, and there must have been something about it because there was no other word for it: he melted. “But I’m here for a different talent of yours.”

The innuendo was unintentional, but the stuttering pulse was gratifying anyway. Her smile twisted into a smirk.

“Oh, are there still _other_ abilities you’d like to share with me?” The room literally got hotter. But she took mercy on the kid. Again. “You can write. Really well.”

“I can indeed!” He dived for the new topic like a life preserver. “I’ve had a piece accepted for publication in the Upper Ring Literary Review, on the significance of—“

“I just mean you know a lot of characters,” she cut him off. “I want you to be my scribe.”

“Ohhh. Ginna mentioned something…you’re hiring a team.”

“You up for it?”

“You’d better believe it.” She could hear his grin in the way he said it—and thought there was a smirk in there, too.

* * *

The Airheads were at the top of the day’s agenda. Toph brought Velvet along, after having him write up a summons to Smellerbee and her gang to come to the city for interrogation. Jag was to get the message sent to the People’s Earth Liberation HQ, in a village a few miles away, before spending the day canvasing all the porcelain kilns in town. Meanwhile, she was confident that her new spy on payroll had at least Gow safely under surveillance. The Gecko had leapt at the opportunity—almost literally.

Toph and Velvet were seated at a stone table in the courtyard of Aspiring Air Nomad Guild (AANG) House. One of the newer arrivals, Xil, was doing a weirdly enthusiastic dance nearby—airbending forms, Toph realized eventually, but completely misunderstood. Yee Li, one of the four founders, sat across from them, fidgeting and trying to make small talk.

“Have you heard from Avatar Aang?” she asked politely, trying to hide the eagerness Toph could feel in her body. 

“He’s only been gone a few days.”

“Right.” Yee Li paused awkwardly. “We always miss him when he’s gone, though. And he never writes us,” she added, just this side of petulant.

“Doesn’t write to me either,” she shrugged. “‘Course, I don’t write him. You know Twinkletoes. He’s fluttering around kissing babies and helping people, but he’ll be back before you know it.” Toph pitied anyone who was going to pin their emotions on an airbender. He was not a guy you wanted to get too attached to—unless you were his “forever girl.” (Toph nearly barfed when she heard Aang use those words. No wonder Katara left him.) 

Hei Won and Balam emerged from the house with a tea service and an assortment of snacks. Toph wanted to get right to the point, but they had insisted on making this all social.

She accepted her tea, a delicate white tea infused with peach—insipid, but good quality—and tried again. “I’m actually here on official business, a new gig for the Governor. I’m working a case.” Toph liked how that sounded and filed away the wording for later. “I heard that a group of you attended Lahar’s rally two days ago.” 

“Ohhh.” The girls chorused. 

_“That_ case.”

“Poor Lahar.” 

All three bowed their heads. “May the Spirits guide her.”

“Yes, we were there.” Balam was the one with gravity. Ironic, since she was probably the only actual Air Nomad. “We saw it happen.”

“And who’s ‘we’?”

“Yee Li, Hei Won, Xil, and myself—and my brother Jasuk, too,” Balam answered.

Toph hadn’t known about Jasuk—and felt a twitch from Velvet, too. The same curiosity? Or something less innocent? Had Velvet met Jasuk? She tried to remember.

“And what about Xing Ying? Where was she?”

“Oh, she was already at the plaza, before we got there. She’s so busy with campaigning, you know.”

“But she’s running unopposed, as Aang’s proxy. Unless someone else is contesting the Air Nomad seat?”

“No, no. The Air Acolytes are the only ones who can vote for the position—Aang has granted honorary Air Nomad citizenship to the four of us—so the seat is hers. But some of the candidates are forming alliances, even before the election, to influence the shape of the new Congress will take. Xing Ying was working with Lahar’s campaign.”

The three girls then gave her their account. They had been on the opposite side of the plaza from where Toph and Velvet had stood, too close to Gow and his hecklers, to their left. They were struggling to hear what Lahar was saying, and Hei Won had just gathered the courage to tell them to shut up, when it happened. Balam swore she’d felt a faint swoosh to her right just before Lahar was struck, but the others were as oblivious as every other witness so far about the strike itself.

“I’d like to talk to Jasuk as well.”

“My brother could have seen something different,” Balam offered. “He walked over with us, but then went off with some of his older friends right away. He must have gone home after that—we didn’t see him again till the next day.”

“And how did he seem then?”

“Oh, just devastated, of course!” Hei Won exclaimed. “I’d never seen him so upset.”

“Jasuk’s a supporter,” Balam explained. “Despite everything.”

“What’s ‘everything’?”

“Oh. It’s just...I’d always thought of him as Earth, through and through. If we do have Air blood, he doesn’t seem to feel it. He definitely wasn’t thrilled about Aang’s Fifth Nation idea, not at first.”

“A soldier, wasn’t he? Was he in the Earth King’s army?”

“Duke of Yei’s, actually, since we’re from the north. He served for many years, and saw a lot of action. And it was loyalty that got him through, like most men on the frontlines. You stick by your comrades, your commander, your nation, no matter what. Otherwise, you die. It’s not about ideas, nothing abstract—my brother never seemed political at all. But it was _Lahar_ that got him going.” Balam’s voice softened. “Maybe he just never had the right message before.”

“Lahar lit a fire under him,” Hei Won agreed. “That day she came by here a few weeks ago, campaigning door-to-door. Something she said must have really clicked with him. At first he just started going to meetings, then volunteering, spreading the word, raising money.”

“Interesting. I would love to talk to him.”

“He’s out with Xing Ying.”

“They’re dating?”

“What? No!” The girls burst into a torrent of giggles. Toph didn’t see what was so ridiculous about that idea. “They’re working on political strategy.”

“Ah. And where would they be doing that?”

“The coalition around Lahar is having another meeting today. They’ve been running nonstop these last few days, picking up the pieces. We’ve hardly seen either of them.”

“The coalition wants to field a new candidate, or at least influence the nomination process. No one really knows how it ought to work, of course—I’m sure Gow thinks the seat should just default to him—but they’re trying to be proactive.” 

“Interesting. So would one of _them_ have wanted Lahar out of the way?”

There was a stunned silence.

“No way,” Yee Li declared.

“Maybe….” Hei Won did not sound as convinced, and Toph wondered if her skepticism was with Toph’s cynicism, the candidates, or just nature the politicking.

* * *

Team Rainbow was apparently meeting at the Isthmus Community Center, down by the southern wall. On their way over that afternoon, the Gecko intercepted them. That is, when Toph ducked suddenly into a side alley without explanation, leaving Velvet scrambling in her wake.

“You got a report, Gecko? What’s Gow up to?” she asked the wall on her left.

The old rumbler dropped lightly on his toes before her. She felt Velvet’s confusion subside.

“Gow doesn’t do a thing. Just drinks and bellows all day in that saloon. He is not an interesting man.” The Gecko shook his head.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Did you know he gets messages by hawk?”

“Hawk? Like from the Fire Nation?”

“Um, _like_ that, yes. But I don’t think it was a Fire Nation hawk.”

“Everyone uses them now, Toph,” Velvet murmured behind her. So she wasn’t up on the current affairs of feathery flying things. Not her territory.

“Where was it from, then?”

“It wore a green leather harness, decorated with fringe, but I didn’t see any insignia. I couldn’t make out any other details. One of Gow’s lackeys came out and grabbed it right away, so it was expected.”

“Any idea of what it was carrying?”

“Nope. But after a couple of minutes, I heard something smash, like it was thrown against a wall, and Gow stormed upstairs, cursing. I thought it might mean something.”

“That’s what I’m paying you for,” she agreed. “Thanks, Gecko. That’s good intel. You wanna do one better: filch that letter.”

And the Gecko was gone.

“Wonder what upset him,” Velvet said.

“Guy with a hammer that big’s gonna be pretty thin-skinned.”

“So, could be anything?”

“Has the price on hawk messaging gone down?”

“Not much, no. The Fire Nation just sells them abroad now, and there are more people who can pay, I suppose.”

“So this would be one of Gow’s ‘people in high places.’ With bad news.”

“But the Air Acolytes’ account absolved Gow, didn’t it? If Balam’s right about where the shot came from.”

“He may not have drawn blood, but he’s not in the clear yet. Especially now that we’ve caught him conspiring.”

“With whom?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

They met up with Jag, who’d had no luck matching the weapon to any local ceramics and proceeded to the Community Center. They had no trouble finding it; even Kiza and Jag could hear the meeting a block away.

“Sounds lively,” Jag commented wryly.

“….what gives _you_ the right…."

“And who wrote Lahar’s speeches? Who staged her rallies? It was I! Do you think it all sprang….?”

“…newcomer and carpetbagger who never….”

“….all show and no substance….”

“….she knows the city inside and out…”

Voices crossed and tumbled over each other, multiple battles waged simultaneously over different turfs. This was why Toph hated politics.

They entered the room, Toph one breath away from bringing everyone to their knees—literally—just to end the chaos. Before she could, a man’s voice rang out over the tumult, somehow piercing through it and soothing it at the same time. She recognized it, from a party, weeks ago.

“Peace, brothers and sisters. Peace is why we’re here. Peace is the road we walk. Let us cleave to the path even in this time of grief.” He spoke over them just as if they could hear him, until they could.

“Peace.” Jasuk stood at the center of the room on something high—a wooden table, most likely. The room fell silent. “We are in pain. The woman we loved, the leader we wanted, has left us, and in the most horrifying and frightening way. And we are reeling. But we must be here for each other. That is why we called this meeting, after all, didn’t we?”

A murmur of assent spread across the room, tinged with chagrin.

“We must mourn her, but we must also protect her legacy and fulfill her dreams—_our_ dreams—for this city. And to do that, we must find a candidate to replace her, distasteful as that must seem to those of us who cared about her.”

A little bit of a subtext in there, a little accusation in the tone to those who seemed to be making a power grab. Jasuk was likely delivering a message with his eyes, and a grumble here and there confirmed it.

“Perhaps we should clear the air by taking nominations for the new candidate, so that everyone’s interests are on the table.”

“Nominations?”

“We can’t _vote in_ a new candidate. This body has no electoral authority!”

“I see nothing wrong with clarifying who is interested in the position, and sharing our collective reactions,” Xing Ying cut through in a ringing voice. “The Air Nomads made most of their decisions by consensus.”

“Why should this nomination process be any different from the original one? Anyone who wishes to run, step forward and may the best man—”

“—or woman!”

“—or woman win!”

“Xing Ying brings welcome wisdom by invoking the ways of those who have gone before us.” Jasuk still held the floor. Or rather, the table. “This is not like the first nominations because we have lost someone specific, someone everyone here had faith in. Someone who brought us all together. We need a candidate to carry on the mission she charted.”

Toph could admit it: she was surprised. She hadn’t expected this level of skill from Jasuk. But with his military experience, and the social popularity she’d seen at the Airheads’ party, she saw how he could have earned it. From what she could tell without his feet on the ground, Jasuk wasn’t lying about anything, wasn’t insincere. But he wasn’t _not_ lying, either. It was strange. His confidence certainly wasn’t faked.

“I nominate Nendo!” came a voice from the back of the room.

“I decline!” Nendo piped up quickly from the opposite end of the room. “Perfectly happy on the City Council, thank you!”

“I wish to run on Lahar’s platform, as I was her righthand man, the one who designed her campaign strategy.” A man with a nasal voice but the resonance of someone who carries some extra weight around the belly declared his candidacy from somewhere close to Jasuk’s table. Probably wishing he were standing on it himself.

“Pu-On Tim, we all love your plays. No one is a better showman. But when all is said and done, this congressperson will sit behind a desk writing legislature, not entertaining the masses,” Bing, the Water Tribe at-large candidate said, not unkindly.

“And if you sit in the government, who will write the next bestselling play?” Nendo flattered him.

“Personally, I’d like to see Lady Seikiei take her daughter’s place,” a woman’s voice volunteered.

“Would she do it, do you think?”

“It seems a lot to ask of a grieving mother.”

“Point of information—is it permissible for the First Lady of the Interim Government to serve in an elected position simultaneously?” a genteel voice interjected, vaguely familiar.

Kiza stiffened, adjusted his posture as if his tutor had rapped his knuckles. Toph leaned over to him, “You know that guy?”

“Someone from home. What is he doing here?”

Toph casually brushed against the kid to get a read on him, but his attention had returned to observing the whole room.

“What about you, Jasuk? Will you run?”

There was a thoughtful pause, filled with scattered murmuring.

“Well, I…I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of it.” _That_ didn’t quite ring true. Toph wished Jasuk had his feet on the ground. But there were worse crimes than false modesty.

“Look how well you’re leading us through this mess.”

“Jasuk’s been in the city for years, he’s not an opportunist. He knows the community.”

“He could draw the votes.”

The conversations rippled through the room. Wisely, Jasuk simply held his ground, waiting and saying nothing.

“Do it, Jasuk,” Xing Ying pronounced firmly.

A chorus of agreement rose up around her.

“I suppose I should then,” Jasuk acceded, sounding a bit moved. “I hereby announce my candidacy for the Northwest Quarter Congressional Seat.”

A casual vote was taken right away, “ayes” for Pu-On Tim (scattered and perfunctory), and for Seikiei (a few voices of strong support, swamped by a brief eruption of contention) and for Jasuk (a chorus of confidence).

“Jasuk it is!” A happy cheer broke out, easily drowning out the grumbling of a few dissenters, and the meeting broke up into socializing, collective goal accomplished.

Toph and her team wove their way through the motley members of Team Rainbow, the three of them identifying everyone they knew, filling in the gaps in each others’ knowledge. Toph cased the room, looking for anger, panic—anyone out of step with the general sense of relief and goodwill. But even Pu-On Tim seemed resigned, if not ready to party.

Jag stood a few feet away, watching for trouble. And all the while, Velvet was in her ear, telling her what he saw beyond what she could easily discern through her feet. Half the people present clustered around Jasuk, wanting a word with him right away.

“There’s Morishita, the Southwest Quarter candidate, chatting up Nendo. Obviously, she’d want Ginna’s support, since she knows everyone. They’ve been offered drinks. There are wine bottles being passed around now—can I get you a drink, Master Toph?”

“No, kid, we’re on duty now.”

“Oh, right. Bing’s over there by the table now, talking earnestly with Jasuk, frowning. Jasuk’s still on the table, but sitting cross-legged now.”

“Kiza? Is it—my dear boy! I didn’t know you were in Yu Dao!” The posh gentleman who’d spoken earlier slipped in front of them.

“Mister Pong, how very nice to see you!” Velvet popped a polite little bow, returned by the old man. Pong’s bow was deeper. Interesting.

“To think I would run into this young man so far from the Upper Ring…” Pong began, turning to Toph, then stopped. “Don’t I know you?”

Toph knew the voice, the height, the faint smell of sandalwood and old socks, the subtle note of suspicion…Upper Ring…. “As a matter of fact, I think you were my neighbor, for a little while. Before the end of the war.”

“Master Toph! What an honor! Those were dark days when we met. I’m sure I wasn’t as welcoming as I should have been. But what a marvelous new world it is now! The return of our benevolent Earth King, in the full flower of his enlightened reign has allowed us to leave Ba Sing Se and explore our glorious Kingdom. Which does not encompass Yu Dao, of course,” he added hastily. “In fact, in my explorations I have discovered my true calling. I have become a _writer,_ and I am writing a book about this fascinating experiment with _democracy_ here in the colonies.”

“What a lovely idea, Mr. Pong,” Velvet responded per the social script.

“Would you ever have imagined meeting me again in such a place?” He gestured to the room with an effete twist of the wrist and a self-deprecating chuckle,. “Though I’m not completely astonished at meeting _you_, here, young Kiza. Always such a radical,” he tutted. “What would your mother say?” Pong’s tone invited him to take the question as more than rhetorical.

“My mother is not here. I make my own choices,” Velvet replied stiffly, heart rate rising.

“And do you make your own_ funds _as well?” Pong prodded.

“With all due respect, sir, that is none of your business.” A rod up his butt couldn’t have improved his posture. 

“Ah—Mr. Bing, a word?” Pong turned to follow the Water Tribesman. “Such a pleasure, young Kiza. My regards to your parents. Do excuse me.” Pong bowed again and hurried after Bing to inquire on some point or other.

Toph regarded Velvet curiously as he brought his heartbeat back down and he let out a slow exhale.

“Who _is_ your mother, anyway?”

“I don’t like being reminded of home.” He let her hear the surliness he’d suppressed for Pong. “It’s probably time to talk to Jasuk, don’t you think?” And he grasped her elbow and steered her to the center of the room. Seriously not cool. 

But here was the new candidate.

“Congrats, Jasuk.”

“Thank you, Master Toph. And…?”

“Kiza, my scribe.” She sensed no reaction between the two of them—it would seem the kid had no more acquaintance with Jasuk than she did. “I’d like a word with you about an investigation I’m working for the Council. In my office.” 

“Really?” Toph could read nothing off of Jasuk. She had to get him off that table. “I’m afraid the rest of my evening looks like meetings straight through. Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Or perhaps now. On the Governor’s authority.” A growing unease was wriggling through her gut, but her gut was being vague about the source. “Jag, find us a room. On the ground floor.”

A few minutes later, Toph closed the door with a click, Jag outside to keep trouble away, Kiza unfurling his paper and brushes.

And Jasuk’s account was utterly unremarkable. He had parted from the Airheads and found his friends, just as Balam had said. The rest was the same: the crowds, the awesome speechifying, the blood, and the screaming. He went for help, but ran into the paramedics on their way to the plaza. 

“And then what? Did you follow them back?”

“No, I went home.” 

“What, just gave up on the whole situation? You seem pretty invested in Lahar’s campaign.”

“I was…not well.”

“A veteran who can’t handle the sight of blood.” 

An awkward silence settled. “You’ve been around, Master Toph. Surely you’ve heard about this, when there’s violence. It happens to a lot of old soldiers. I needed to get away.”

Flashbacks. She’d more than heard about them. She felt a sudden memory of Sokka’s arms holding her tightly on a rocking ship, murmuring in her ear as her thundering heartbeat returned to normal and her nightmare faded. Yeah, she knew about flashbacks.

“Fair enough. I guess that’s all for today. Good luck in the election.” She gave him a casual clap on the shoulder as he left, something she didn’t ordinarily do. Trouble was, she still couldn’t read him.

The day was done and still no clear path forward. She said goodnight to Jag. She wanted to talk to Velvet—that weird interaction with Pong was bugging her—but he begged off, too, and darted off in the direction of the inn. She meandered through the streets, aiming for home by the longest route possible, shuffling the pieces around in her head trying to find a pattern, ignoring the dwindling street scene around her as the air cooled. Jasuk now had motive, but otherwise, she had no reason to suspect him—no evidence pointed to him, hard or circumstantial. He wasn’t a bender or an archer, so far as she knew (but what did she knew? She made a note to catch up with Balam on his martial skills). But he was unreadable in the same way that she couldn’t detect lies off Azula. And that was not a point in his favor.

Her feet had taken her to one of the smaller market squares, shuttered and silent for the night. Except for two low voices at the far end, trying not to be heard. 

“You’ve done what you came here for. It’s time to go.” A clinking bag of coins changed hands. “You’ve got passage on the Keta, sailing at dawn for the Fire Nation.”

A hand hefted the sack, testing the weight. “That’s more than I expected.” A familiar voice, more alert than she’d heard it last time, and more suspicious. “Why so much?”

“I’m just the messenger. She doesn’t want to see you get caught, so the money’s for getting yourself fixed up.”

“Fixed up…?” 

“Remember, the Keta. Dawn.” Footsteps receded.

Toph slunk closer, along the edge of the square, just enough to verify the heartbeat—harder to recognize, free of the booze, but definitely him.

When he moved, she cuffed him.

* * *

_ _

The ceramic chimes crashed and shattered when Toph burst through the door of the inn, shoving Ravsan ahead of her, hands still bound behind his back with reconstituted paving stone.

“Ginna!” she called.

The innkeeper tumbled out of a back room, tying a robe on, hair flying loose.

“What the hell, Toph?” Nendo was right on her heels.

“Ginna—get this brat off of me!” Ravsan struggled uselessly to free his wrists, and for his trouble, Toph sank his feet into the flagstone floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take a deep breath everybody.” Ginna spread her arms to calm the room. “What is going on here?”

“Jag will be here in a few minutes with members of the City Guard to arrest Ravsan under suspicion for the murder of Lahar.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ginna planted her hands on her hips. “On what grounds, exactly?”

“I didn’t do anything, Ginna! This is huge misunderstanding!”

“He was in the right place at the right time, and he has ample motive—political and personal prejudice.”

“That’s just circumstantial evidence, and you know it, Toph,” Nendo admonished her.

_“And,”_ Toph continued, “I just caught him accepting a ticket out of Yu Dao, blood money paid and job well done.” She held up the bag and gave it a shake to make the gold speak. And then told them what she’d overheard. “I don’t know who ‘she’ is, though.” She turned expectantly to Ravsan.

A moment of agonized silence passed, in which she guessed that meaningful looks were being exchanged.

“Well, it’s Ginna. Obviously,” Ravsan answered grudgingly. “Ginna, you can’t afford this. I can take care of myself. You need this money for yourself, for Nendo.” There was a whole other story in the ache in his voice around the word “Nendo,” but Toph was still trying to wrap her head around Ginna’s involvement.

“It didn’t come from me, Ravsan. Wasn’t _my_ money.”

“It was mine.” Everyone swiveled towards the new voice on the stairs behind Ginna and Nendo.

_“Kiza?”_

“I _knew_ you were lying about the day of the murder.” Toph jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “You never came clean.”

“Kiza? You lied to Toph? About Ravsan? Why?”

“I—uh…. Oh, this is embarrassing.” He curled in on himself and spoke into hands covering his face. “I thought Ravsan might have done it, at first.”

“Yeah, that’s a distinct possibility. And you tried to hide what you knew!” Toph stepped closer.

“How the hell would Ravsan pull off something like that?” Ginna objected. “The day Lahar was killed, he was so drunk he could scarcely _walk_ straight, let alone shoot!”

“I found out soon enough I was wrong. But what you don’t know, Ginna, is that the night before the assassination, he made an actual threat against her.” 

“Nonsense!” Ginna’s hands were on her hips.

“He _literally_ said, ‘I will kill that mongrel bitch, and smash her into the dust she came from.’”

“Ravsan!” Ginna groaned. “I didn’t realize he was _that_ drunk. It’s all bark, Toph, no bite,” she pleaded. “He’s really not a violent man.”

“So the next day, before the rally, when we were having tea with Nendo, I saw him pass by through the window of the tea shop, heading towards the Industrial District. And it worried me. Especially after checking out those incredible blades at Kollan’s shop. I had lethal weaponry on the mind, you know?”

“But it didn’t worry you enough to actually _tell_ anybody,” Toph clarified (sarcastically).

“I didn’t want to get him in trouble—I just wanted to keep an eye on him. He’s Ginna’s brother!”

“Kiza….” Ginna’s sigh was exasperated and affectionate.

“But he didn’t go to Kollans’ shop. He just met someone in the alley behind the shop—I hid behind a trashbin—and handed something over.”

“Something?”

“He received some money for it, so at least I knew he wasn’t buying a weapon. I was still suspicious—it was a very sneaky transaction. But Ravsan just wandered off through the streets, this way and that. Drifting in his own world, completely sauced, staying out of trouble.”

“That sounds like at least a little trouble to me,” Toph pointed out.

Velvet ignored her, “So, at long last, I made my way to the plaza, seeking to reconnoiter with the two of you.”

“But we know Ravsan _did_ show up at the rally.”

“Yes, but he swore he was just passing through, and I believed him.” So had Toph, at the time, but she kept that to herself for now.

“So why didn’t you just vouch for him and get him off my suspect list?” 

“He wasn’t actually guilty of murder, but he was guilty. I figured it out soon enough.” Velvet sighed, a sad and disappointed sound. “Ginna, I only wanted to spare you and Nendo, so I was trying to help Ravsan get away.”

Ginna laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder: “I knew, Kiza. I’ve known for a long time.” She said it like a stone she was laying down. “He traffics scorch-oil from the Fire Nation. The hallucinogenic,” she explained to Toph with a nod (as if she wouldn’t know). “I’m sorry.”

“And you never stopped him?” 

“I tried! Of course I tried! I scolded him, cajoled him, threatened him, tried to find him a job, a girl, but he wouldn’t stop. But I couldn’t turn him in, either. Not my own brother.” She turned to Ravsan. “You had no business accepting Kiza’s money, though.” 

“I didn’t know it came from a kid! It was anonymous—the messenger just said ‘she!’”

Something didn’t add up here. “I thought he’d been making money on the drug dealing? Why’d you give him money, Velvet?”

“I thought he must need it, and if he had enough, he could stop. It would give him a chance to get his life together. I gave him enough to live on for a year or so, and enroll in a treatment center.”

“For _a year?_ How could you possible have that much money?” 

“Uh, I’m uh…. Pong was right. My parents still support me,” he mumbled.

“At a level where you can support someone else?” 

“Of course. They assume I have servants—a valet, a cook, a maid, a bodyguard. And that I would be renting a house, or at least a well-furnished suite. This life…” He gestured around the humble room. “…is beyond their imagining.”

Ginna was stunned into silence. Toph wasn’t. “And you don’t disabuse them of this notion.”

“I tried. My father just thought I was being dramatic and ignored me. My mother freaked out and forbade me from leaving Ba Sing Se ever again. She even put a guard on me. So of course I had to escape.” He shrugged. “Why _not_ take the money? I’ll put it to better use than they will.”

“Huh. I never thought of it quite that way.” Every single word out of Velvet’s mouth here had rung true. He was being completely honest, finally. “I wish you’d told me about Ravsan earlier, kid.”

“Maybe I should have. But you _are_ law enforcement.” 

“I am not! I’m a—I’m a private eye! A government contractor, at most. Look, Kiza. You can trust me, ok?” And that was only a tiny lie on her part. Because, even though she couldn’t imagine him doing it, he was still the only bender she knew with the skills to kill someone with a perfectly crafted porcelain projectile.

石

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never tried to write a murder mystery before and I don't know how this is going. Please comment! Where do you think this is headed? Is there any suspense? Thanks for your feedback!


	4. The Price of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph and Velvet question Smellerbee and Longshot at the former Freedom Fighters' new utopian commune and zero in on the killer.

石 

There wasn’t much sleep for anyone that night, but the next morning, as they’d already planned, Toph and Kiza set out on foot for Inminchon. The Freedom Fighters (apparently Liberators now) had refused Jag’s request to come in for questioning, so Toph had decided to go to their village herself. More chance to eavesdrop that way, anyway. Leaving the Gecko to tail Gow, with Jag on Jasuk and the election preparations, she put herself on Kiza watch. She’d need her scribe with her, of course.

They walked a wordless couple of miles, enjoying the sheer space of the rural soundscape: breezes ruffling the rice fields; the conversational babbling of running water—in the paddies, under footbridges; coot-frogs honking in the water-weeds; and above everything, the trilling descants of songbirds, each insisting on their own melody. Toph was enjoying it, anyway. Velvet seemed tense.

“Out with it.”

Velvet jumped, then followed orders. “We're more than just rich.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. _My_ family’s rich. Yours is fucking loaded. Doesn’t make you guilty of anything. Necessarily.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s just…. It puts me…. The Beifongs are merchants.”

Was that condescension? “And? All money comes from somewhere.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Huh?”

“Not for families like ours. It’s just there. It’s always been there, and they assume it always will be there. Like air or water, sustaining life.”

“Come on.”

“It’s land rent, I suppose On vast plantations we don’t even run. And taxes and tariffs that sort of thing. Interest and dividends on a few million in the family trust. Money just rolls in on its own. I think that’s how it works—but nobody I know cares about any of that. They wouldn’t want to sully their hands.”

“Right. So what are you, royalty or something?” she elbowed him, half joking.

He scuffed his toes in the dust without answering.

_“You’re royalty?”_

“No, no. Not really. I mean, we don’t live in the Palace or anything. I mean, not the Earth King’s Palace. My mom is his cousin, though. And my dad’s on the Council of Five. He’s from King Bumi’s family. But, I mean, _does_ it matter?” He turned toward her, as if it really mattered. “To you?”

Toph forced her eyebrows back in place and went for nonchalance. This was way more than she’d figured. “Nah. Of course not. I’m already friends with your, uh, relatives. And the Fire Lord and the Avatar. It’s just…why the secrecy?”

“I’d think you of all people would understand about keeping your private business private.”

“Sure….” But it wasn’t quite the same. Was it? Everyone knew she was a Beifong—she still used the name, even if she avoided any association with her family, hadn't seen her mom and dad in, what three years now? The smell of her mother's perfume came to her, uninvited, and the memory of soothing fingers running through her hair. “For me, it’s personal. I’ve made a life for myself, completely independent of where I came from. It’s the least important thing to know about me.”

“That’s just how I feel! I don’t want to carry my parents’ influence around with me, and the legacy of everything they are and their parents and their parents’ parents, and to be seen as that—just another gold link in the chain, binding us to the past. I can’t be part of that. I want you to see me as me.”

Was that the plural or the singular “you,” Toph wondered.

"But you’ve already made your name,” he continued. “I have so far to go yet, to have anything to show for myself.”

“Leaving the money behind’s a good start. Rely on your own talents and hard work.”

“You say that…. But money is power, isn’t it?

“You just said you didn’t want that power.”

“Not my power; theirs. I know it doesn’t amount to much, but whatever money they send me doesn’t go to their deplorable ‘causes.’”

The pieces clicked into place. “Earth Purists?”

“To the marrow of their bones. I don’t know all the organizations they funnel money to, but I know it includes some underground operations. I know they don’t approve of what the Avatar’s doing. They certainly wouldn’t tolerate Lahar.”

Time to clear the air once and for all. "Do you suspect them of involvement?"

"In the murder?" Velvet gasped. "Oh, no," he assured her, then, "Oh, no! Do you think they could be? I mean, who knows where their money ends up!"

"Exactly—I want to know if _you_ know." Though it was pretty obvious he didn't, by now.

"I swear to you Toph, I don't know anything more about what happened on the day of Lahar's murder, or what was behind it than I've already told you. And if my parents somehow supported it—which, now that you mention it, is not a wild supposition—I offer you and the people of Yu Dao an abject apology for them, in the utmost sincerity." And he actually bowed to her—lower than he had to Pong, she thought.

"It's all right. You can't apologize for them, nor should you. At least your whole family's not a lost cause. King Bumi's not one of those."

“Not at all. That’s why he doesn’t talk to us.”

“To be honest, I’ve never heard him mention any of his kids. I wasn’t sure if he had any.”

“Oh sure, lots. But none of them can stand to stay in Omashu with him. He’s completely nuts. At least King Bumi is on the right side of history.”

Toph nodded in agreement. “Old as the stones, but his mind’s on the future.”

“Unlike my parents and their ilk. All they can think of is going back, back to some verdant time in the mythical past when the Earth Kingdom’s glory held sway over the entire world.” Velvet twirled in the road, gesturing expansively. “Do you believe there ever was such a time, Toph?”

“I’m no historian. But from what I’ve seen, real life is always a lot more complicated than the stories. And any time someone’s above, someone else is below, fighting to bring them down.”

Velvet nodded sagely. “That’s what I think.”

* * *

Even before they reached the outskirts of Inminchon, Toph could feel a difference. The other villages in the valley went about their business like villages everywhere: in a shuffling, interdependent dance, everyone doing their part to get the work done. And to spice it up, a little love, a little hate, and a lot of gossip. Round and round it went and life was best when nothing changed.

As they approached Inminchon along a raised footpath that cut through muddy rice paddies, the sense of purpose hummed in the air. No one was bored, no one was idle, no one was gossiping (at the moment). They were transplanting rice, hoeing gardens, and hammering nails in stuff, working like they were on a deadline. Which should’ve made them a grim and militant bunch, but they laughed and hugged each other for no reason. At one point, they spontaneously burst into song in three-part harmony.

It was a fucking utopia.

The Freedom Farmers regarded them curiously, some even stopping their work to stare. No one challenged them and they walked right into the center of the village, where a maternal bustling and the smell of hot food heralded dinner. Three or four women were bringing large bowls of food out of a kitchen somewhere, lining them up on a long table.

“Is it a feast?” Velvet asked, uncertain.

“It’s just dinner.” Smellerbee approached from one of the houses, Longshot close behind. “Everyone eats together. Saves labor in the kitchens: more hands in the fields, more minds around the table.”

“Smellerbee. You look well.”

“Good one.” The girl actually got it. “So the Great Detective herself graces us with a visit.”

“You didn’t think you were off the hook?”

“Were we on it?” Smellerbee answered through a quick grin in her teeth, though Toph couldn’t tell if it was intended for her or Longshot. “You’re here now. Grab a bowl, eat with us.” Her tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, but open enough. “You and your….”

“Velvet.”

“Right.” She paused, apparently sizing the kid up. “Do I know you?”

“Well, actually—ow!” Toph jabbed him on the sole of the foot with a sharp rock. “Nope, I don’t think so. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” And the fool bowed—just slightly, but still. Fine words about shedding the mantle of aristocracy… so far yet to go.

“Partners in posh,” Smellerbee scoffed, handing Toph a bowl.

Toph resented that—the gulf between her and Velvet was immense—and snatched the bowl and thrust it towards the lady dishing out rice.

Velvet and Toph sat side by side at the end of one of the trestle tables, Toph listening, Velvet watching, as the workers trickled in from the fields. The meal wasn’t bad: rice, vegetable soup, tofu with some shreds of meat tossed in—simple, but with flavor. Velvet made sure to graciously compliment one of the cooks.

The conversation around them was spirited and somehow both freewheeling and earnest.

“But have you read Chen Dong's ‘Diatribe’?,” man whose accent reeked of erudition leaned across the table to inquire of another man who sat primly with his elbows in. “I highly recommend it, for a better understanding of the dialectical relationship between material reality, injustice, and the imperative to political action.”

“The what now?” a man to his left answered through a mouthful of rice, ribbing the university nerd in the ribs.

“The dialectic. The way that what we have—or don’t have—determines how we live and how we think.”

“And water makes you piss and food makes you shit. Someone got _paid_ to write that down?”

“You said it, Old Kabu!” another farmer shouted roughly, to general laughter.

“Actually, Chen Dong was employed as a….” The scholar then had a bun stuffed in his mouth, to uproarious laughter. Instead of backing down with his tail between his legs or storming off in a huff, he laughed through the bun said with his mouth full: “Sorry everyone. ‘Never use a 10-fen word when a 2-fen word will do.’ Right?”

“You’re learning, Zong! Here’s some 2-fen words for you: Fuck the landlords!”

And so on. They weren’t watching their words around their guests, even knowing their pedigrees—or maybe it was a sideways challenge.

Their table was one of four set up in the communal space at the center of the village, anchored by a spreading elm in the southwest corner which shaded most of the diners at this time of day. A small structure of some kind was planted in the earth under it. At Toph’s whispered question, Velvet described a wooden stand displaying a portrait of a shaggy-haired young man with a piercing gaze holding something between his teeth.

“A twig? A really thin cigarette?” Velvet leaned back for a better look.

“That’s Jet. The founder of our movement,” the girl on the other side of him offered with a note of reverence.

“A wheatstraw,” Toph supplied.

“You’ve heard of him!” the girl exclaimed.

“I _knew_ him.” She answered without thinking.

“You knew Jet?!”

All the conversations around them froze and all heads turned.

“Um, a little. Back in Ba Sing Se.” She hedged, hoping they’d drop it. It was a vain hope. So much for a low profile. She fielded the barrage of questions as neutrally as she could—there wasn’t really that much she could tell, after all.

“Were you there, at the end?” A hush descended.

“Not quite,” she dodged, but tossed them a bone. “He fought heroically to allow us to escape.”

Two latecomers strode into the center of the village: a small, but sturdy teenager and a huge, heavy-footed man. Toph perked up.

“Pipsqueak and the Duke!” someone called out from the end of the table. “Get yourself some grub!”

“Hey,” the Duke answered, sounding tired but relaxed, his voice a lot huskier and lower than Toph remembered. He paused and took in the scene. “Toph? Hey, Toph!”

And the Duke had her in a half-hug, which was ok, though he was now as big as she was and quite a bit heavier, and then Pipsqueak barreled over and nearly crushed her in his beefy arms.

“Mmrrph!” She separated them forcefully, shooting a spear of earth up from the ground and scattering dirt in the rice bowls nearby, to shouts of protest. “Great to see you guys, too. You’re back with the Freedom Fighters?”

“Sort of, yeah! We homestead over that way, on the other side of the creek, but we all help each other out a lot.”

“They’re basically PEL members,” Smellerbee explained. “Just not ready to shed the last yoke of oppression and release their private property.”

“Hey, we were really lucky to get that land,” the Duke objected.

“It was hard!” Pipsqueak agreed.

“If they give up their land, it would go to you?” Velvet clarified.

“It would belong to everyone. To the collective. So it’s not losing property at all; it’s sharing in the greater wealth. Stay for the study session after dinner. You’ll learn something.”

Toph was all for learning something. So as the dishes were collected and washed (not by the cooks, but by a crew of pre-teen kids), she snagged Smells by the elbow.

“Let’s talk, Queen Bee. Longshot, too. Where’s a good place?”

The girl sighed. “Might as well get this over with. Sha, get the meeting started without me, ok? This won’t take long.”

As they walked across the village, Velvet shifted closer to her, murmuring just behind her ear, “Did you see that?”

“The flying purple people-eater? Who could miss it?”

“Did you _sense_ that—you know what I meant. The hawk.”

“Yeah, not good with wings, kid. What hawk?”

“Right. I just thought—anyway, a moment before Duke and Pipsqueak got here, a message hawk appeared. Longshot received it. Hardly anyone noticed it, but a few did, and gave it dark glances.”

“What’s a dark glance?”

“You know…suspicious, disapproving? They didn’t like it. But this is important, Toph: from what I could see, it was wearing a green leather harness with fringe, just as Gecko described Gow’s hawk the other day.”

“Hm. Interesting. Gow and the Utopians? Strange bedfellows.”

“Not as utopian as they’d like us to believe, maybe.”

Toph nodded thoughtfully.

Smellerbee had led them to a long, clapboard building and stepped inside, but Toph stood her ground. “Out here will be fine. Nice breeze tonight.”

The girl paused.

“And I’ll need the light,” Velvet added helpfully, pulling out his paper and brushes and settling onto the ground a little distance from the front steps.

Smells flopped down on the ground across from them. Perfect. “Fine, whatever. It’s been a long day. Let’s make this quick.”

_Simpatico_, Toph thought and they proceeded through her standard interview with the efficiency of an evenly matched rumble duel. The Freedom Liberators had gone to the rally mostly for shits and giggles because they happened to be in town stocking up on supplies (and gossip). Smellerbee claimed to be as shocked as everyone else when the blood started flowing. Neither she nor Longshot saw or heard anything helpful. And they were telling the truth. Smellerbee was, for sure. Longshot’s solemn nods seemed sincere enough, though they weren’t a lot to go on.

“One last thing,” Toph added. “Show me your arrows, Longshot.” Just to be sure. After all, Longshot was so unnaturally good with arrows, he might as well be a bender.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, maybe checking with Smells, then drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, took Toph’s hand in the palm of his own, and laid the weapon carefully on her hand. She traced the shaft to the iron arrowhead, a standard design, though very well made.

“Is this the kind you always use?”

He shook his head and gave her another arrow, this one with a steel point. And another, simply a shaft ending in a leaded tip.

“Have you ever tried a ceramic arrowhead?”

Longshot and Smells definitely exchanged a look, though without any heart-pounding guilt.

“Why would anyone want to use ceramic?” the Bee wondered for Longshot. “It would shatter on impact. Unless it was weapons-grade ceramic. Saw that once, in Ba Sing Se.”

“But something like porcelain, with a sharp edge, aiming for something soft?”

“Like what, a feather pillow?” Smells checked with Longshot, who poked at his own belly and nodded for her to continue. “Flesh is tougher than you’d think, and with the force of a flying arrow behind it, normal ceramic would break before doing much damage.”

That was a really good point. The weapon couldn’t possibly have depended on momentum to pierce its target. Bending had to have been involved somehow. “Guess that’s it, then.”

Longshot shifted and leaned forward, a hand on the Queen Bee’s shoulder, who said, after a minute pause. “That’s a weirdly specific question. Are you saying Lahar was killed with a _potshard_?”

“I’m not technically at liberty to say.” Which meant yes, obviously.

Longshot and Smellerbee exchanged some kind of a look.

“Why, have you heard of something like that before?” Maybe she should have been asking that question around all along. She heard a shuffle as Velvet drew up a new page.

“Not crockery. Not always. There was this assassin, back in the war….”

“Go on.”

“His trademark was bending things into people.”

“Explain?” 

“I mean, like piercing someone in the neck with a broken seashell—driving it slowly into their flesh. Or a bit of glass. Or…” she swallowed hard. “just a sharp rock. Something that wouldn’t be possible without steady force and precision behind it. Strong, skilled bending.”

This was it. The scratchy swish of Velvet’s brush stopped and his heart stilled in anticipation—again, not the fight-or-flight pounding of guilt, Toph was relieved to note.

“You saw this guy kill.”

“Not exactly, not clearly. There were rumors. But we saw his work, yeah.”

Toph had never known Smellerbee to be particularly squeamish about violent deaths. This victim had to be someone she knew.

“Who did he kill, Smells?”

After another long check-in with Longshot, she said, “Sneers.”

“Who?”

“Oh, yeah. You weren’t with the Avatar and them at our camp. He was a bigger kid, took over for Jet after that Gaipan disaster with Aang and Katara and Sokka. We kind of…lost faith in Jet for a little while there—some of the fighters, permanently. But Sneers was almost as old as Jet. And he cared about right and wrong—we would never have tried to blow that dam if he was in charge….What’s the word? Ethical.”

“So what happened to him?”

“He crossed the wrong person.”

“Wasn't that your standard MO?”

Longshot and the Queen got into some kind of extended conversation with their eyes and hands. “Some people get real sensitive to disrespect. Some people feel they are owed.”

“Your patron. The Duke of Yei right?”

She felt Longshot stiffen in surprise. But Toph had guessed this bit way back at treaty talks in Ba Sing Se, and at the negotiations after the Ten-Minute War, the way these two and Yei had reacted to each other—or rather, didn't—more or less confirmed it.

“Yei’s the assassin?” Velvet burst out. Toph was surprised he’d stayed quiet this long. Maybe the little terrorist still scared him.

Smellerbee scoffed audibly. “No. But Sneers went against Yei and paid the price.”

“Yei was in collusion with the Fire Nation?”

Velvet clamored.

“Hardly. He supported us, like Toph said.” Then she shrugged, like now they’d agreed to tell, it was no big deal. “It wasn’t that much money, obviously, and not even that much protection—we were still out there on the frontlines, a bunch of kids getting picked off by the world’s most powerful army. But it was enough that we were willing do his dirty work: banditry, mostly—targeting certain people, stealing plans, even just petty revenge sometimes. Jet had gone off to pout by himself for a while and Sneers wanted us to break free, and just live. That wasn’t a good idea.

“We knew enough to go into hiding, so we were on the move, only at night, single-file through the woods. I was right behind him that night, when he just….” Smells slumped like a puppet whose strings were cut. “Blood just started pouring out of him.”

“Just like Lahar.” Velvet breathed, so wrapped up in the story, he’d completely forgotten about the brush in his hand.

Toph nodded slowly. “So it was just a rock?”

“It had been shaped and sharpened. But it wasn’t balanced like an arrow or a throwing weapon would need to be. He just pushed it into Sneers’s throat, without ever touching him.”

“So who was it?”

Queen Bee shrugged. “We saw him move off in the dark. Longshot took a shot at him, but didn’t have a clear line. It was a man, broad-shouldered, not super tall. Fast. People say he was a soldier—some people say in the Earth King’s Army, but we know he was Yei’s.”

“What happened then?” Velvet leaned forward. “Did you go back into Yei’s service?”

“Hell, no. We were scared shitless and we scattered and ran. Longshot and me got back with Jet and we ended up in Ba Sing Se. You know the rest. Jet died. Then banditry, the class struggle, and here we are.”

“Here you are? That’s glossing over a volume or two of the tale! How did you get from being two friendless refugees in the City of Walls to leading a utopian commune and plotting revolution in the Fifth Nation?” Velvet was practically drooling for more.

“I’m a little fuzzy on that, too,” Toph put in. “Where does Yei stand in all this now?”

“It doesn’t make for a very good story, to be honest. Just hard work, day to day. No heroics, a lot of compromises, and a clear vision for the future. None of which we had under Jet.”

“And yet the village lauds him as their heroic founder.”

“He’s dashing, he’s got the right backstory. And he ‘died for the cause.’ The people need a symbol they can adore, hang their hopes on. Bitchy little me’s not gonna cut it.” She laughed. “But his picture’s up there because we loved him. Longshot and me, we’re the only ones who ever did.”

“Compromises, you said. Did any of these compromises involve Yei, by any chance?”

“We went back to him, groveled a little bit.” Queen Bee conceded, sounding resigned. “You don’t think petty thieving could fund the purchase of an entire village, do you?”

“To hear the villagers tell it, everyone selflessly pooled their resources to the enrichment of all.”

“Stories are important. Actually, we bought out half the original farmsteads here when the farmers got jobs in the city—mostly in construction. We had enough gold to do it.”

“And in return?”

“He’s playing us. He wants us to believe he supports the revolution. Ideologically. That he’s one with the common man. We know that’s a load of crap, but we let him think we’re actually that naïve. He just wants to control as many pieces on the board as he can manage, till he can make his move.”

“He wants his own nation.”

And Longshot spoke for the second time in Toph’s acquaintance: “Bingo.”

石

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A fen is a penny in Chinese currency. Zong's aphorism is based on Mark Twain: "Don't use a $5-word when a 50-cent word will do." But I misremembered the math.)


	5. Toph Gets Her Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like it says on the label. In more ways than one.

石

With a new lead to follow, Toph and Velvet hightailed it back to the city, speculating along the way on who the mysterious assassin could be. Velvet was convinced it had to be one of the suspects they already had, harboring a secret identity; Toph didn’t see how it could be (but knew at last it couldn’t be Velvet) and was mapping out a plan for all four members of her team to scour Yu Dao’s underground networks simultaneously to flush out the killer without giving him a chance to flee.

“Just who do you think it would be, Velvet? _Gow?_ He’s the only earthbender on our suspect list, and the only soldier.” And a broad-shouldered soldier. But also tall (the eye can be deceived, in the dark), and dumb as a post, supposedly….

“Not the only soldier. There’s Jasuk. And someone could have been working undercover, one of the candidates from another district—we don’t know! Secret identity, remember? Kollan the bladesmith? He knows weapons!”

Toph gave that no more than the scoff it deserved.

They headed directly for the Governor’s Plaza to find Jag and the Gecko. Teams of earnest citizens were preparing for election day, setting up tables and ballot boxes and stringing ropes to separate the queues of voters. No sign of the old rumbler, but Jag was in the thick of it.

“We have a lead,” Toph announced without preamble. “What’s the scene?”

“Hi, Toph! How was the trip?” Jag waved cheerfully, but snapped into professional mode when he caught her mood. “Everything looks ready for a smooth election tomorrow, no one’s anticipating any trouble. But given Lahar’s murder, the Governor is placing extra guards around the city, especially here in the plaza.”

“Of course. And Jasuk?”

“He’s been around all day, helping out, chatting people up. Working the popularity contest. I don’t see him at the moment….”

“And he’s officially on the ballot as Gow’s opponent?” Velvet confirmed. .

“Oh, yeah. That went forward like it was preordained. Jasuk’s swept up Lahar’s supporters in the last couple of days without much trouble—they’re treating him like he’s a natural replacement for her.”

“Is he?” Toph asked.

“My honest opinion?”

“I’ll never ask for anything less.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll make a good leader. He really knows how to speak to people—how to calm them down and get them worked up. But I don’t know what he stands for. He’s inspirational, but vague. Strange, for an earthbender…. The Rainbow Alliance is assuming that he’ll just adopt all of Lahar’s platform, I think. But he hasn’t actually said that in so many words. He talks a lot about healing and coming together and victory, nothing about what kind of nation he wants us to be.”

“And Gow? Any more support for him?”

“Oh, now, Gow? Seriously? His people are louder than ever, but it’s just them, same as always.”

The Gecko showed just then as if summoned, bounding across the plaza.

“Gecko! You get that letter?” Toph called out to him.

“Better than that! Gow just challenged Jasuk to a bending duel!”

“Jasuk is a bender?” Velvet interjected.

“I didn’t think so. I figured that's why he wouldn’t accept the challenge, and just walked away. But then Gow lost his temper and lobbed a paving stone at him and Jasuk stopped it in midair. So I’d say, yeah, he’s a bender. But a pretty sneaky one.”

Velvet elbowed Toph softly, which she supposed was his posh way of saying “I told you so.”

Toph ignored him, leaning in. “So Gow thought that a show of brute force would convince more people to vote for him?”

“To be fair, his lackeys _are_ more convinced than ever that Jasuk’s a weak pacifist unworthy of wearing the pants on his own butt--and they’re holding a rally back there that’s two drinks short of a riot.

“What triggered the challenge?”

“Gow hunted him down, found him near the Northwest Market and collared him. I think he meant to have a private conversation, because he pulled him down into an alley, but it didn’t take long before he was shouting, so it wasn’t any job for me to eavesdrop. He seemed to think Jasuk betrayed him. He kept saying, ‘We had a deal!’”

_“A conspiracy!”_ Velvet gasped, just short of clapping his hands with delight.

“And Jasuk was one step ahead…” Toph mused.

“Something, yeah…. Gow was, ‘this wasn’t the plan’ and ‘you already played your part!’ And ‘dishonorable poof!’ But Jasuk just smiled and said, ‘Guess you didn’t have the whole script.’ And that pushed Gow over the edge and that’s when he challenged him.”

“So Jasuk _did_ have the means for the murder. We already knew he had the opportunity.”

“But the motive?” Jag asked.

“Well, we know it’s Yei behind all this…” Velvet began.

“We think,” Toph corrected him.

“We do?” Jag and the Gecko chorused.

“The hawks,” Velvet explained.

“He wants control of the Fifth Nation,” Toph elaborated. "But since it's outside of his own territory, he's working the political angle by proxy.

“So you think that’s where Gow’s letter came from? The Duke of Yei?” the Gecko clarified.

“Yei backs the Freedom Fighters—a finger in every pie, you see?—and Velvet saw them receive a messenger hawk wearing insignia that matched your description of Gow’s hawk.”

“So if Jasuk and Gow are involved in the same conspiracy,” Velvet continued, “it stands to reason that it would be Yei's. If there’s a ‘script,’ it would be his.”

“I don’t quite get it.” Jag shifted his helmet to scratch his head. “If Yei wants political control of Yu Dao, why would he run a nonstarter like Gow for Congress?”

“He thought Gow could win if Lahar were out of the way?” Velvet offered.

Jag shook his head. “Couldn’t happen.”

“And maybe Yei figured that out. Maybe there was a change of plans,” the kid continued.

“Maybe _Jasuk_ figured that out. And _he’s_ running as Yei’s candidate instead,” Toph said.

“Either way, Gow thought he had it in the bag after the murder—”

“—which he was in on.”

“So Gow killed Lahar?” the Gecko interjected, sounding lost.

“—and is pissed as hell that Jasuk is taking the race. So Jasuk had to be the murderer!” Velvet concluded.

“Everything points that way,” Toph conceded. “But it’s circumstantial—not much more than conjecture, really. We have no evidence. And there could still be a third party.”

“What evidence could there even be, besides the weapon itself?”

“Which we already have.” Toph frowned.

“Letters…. The hawks, again!”

“Right. Has anyone seen Jasuk receive a hawk?”

Silence.

“Right. Gecko, what about Gow’s letter? You never answered me.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, I couldn’t get in, too many eyes, and then I had to go after Gow. And good thing I did, right?” Gecko added hopefully.

“Sure, sure. But we need it now. Go find it. Velvet—you're Gecko’s lookout. Jag—find Jasuk and tail him, divert him if necessary. I’m going to search Jasuk’s house to see if _he_ got any letters.”

“Um, is this legal…?” Velvet began. Toph just gave him a shove towards the Gecko and he tucked his tail and went like a good boy.

They had a mission and there was no time to get cute about the rules.

* * *

The only problem was she didn’t know where Jasuk lived. So there was a delay while she hunted down Balam instead, who took the law-and-order stance, same as Velvet, but with more backbone. In the end, Toph had to threaten her. Not with violence to her person—she wasn’t a bully. She just promised to rip up every cobblestone in the courtyard of AANG House if Balam didn’t take her to her brother’s house _now._

It didn't come to that.

“You realize it’s late and he’s going to be home in bed,” Balam scolded.

She had a point and Toph was privately feeling that maybe she was being a little rash. “Let’s just see what we see. It’s a big night for the candidates—I’ll bet he’s out.”

By some blessing of the badgermoles, Toph was right, not Balam. Jasuk’s apartment was empty—and, thankfully, on the street level. Balam didn’t have a key, but picking a lock is easier than picking a nose, for a metalbender. Toph made Balam snuff out the lantern she was carrying and crept inside.

“Are you coming?”

Balam folded her arms across her chest. “I led you here, but that’s it. You’re on your own with the breaking and entering.” Toph frowned, but noted that the other girl wasn’t actually going anywhere. She’d be the lookout, then.

Toph circled the room. It was pretty much what you’d expect of an unmarried ex-soldier: Spartan, tidy, smelling a bit of musty old socks and body odor. In one corner, there was a brazier for rudimentary cooking and a sink with two clean dishes stacked next to it. Toph examined the ceramic, but it was just stoneware, nothing like the weapon. The bed was little more than a cot, with a few scrolls scattered across it.

She fingered them (wishing Balam would lend an eye) and they seemed professionally printed, so she assumed they were purchased books rather than anything personal. A large, wooden trunk sat under the window—standard military issue. The lock, thankfully, was copper, and easy to work. A collection of knives were arranged neatly in the top tray. Underneath that, Toph groped through the boring personal effects until she found a roll of papers. Could be anything, but she pocketed it.

At the bottom of the trunk, she finally found something interesting: a ceramic brick. It didn’t seem to have a lid, or any seams or latch, but it was hollow and definitely held things inside. A benders-only secret-keeper. Delicately running a finger along four edges, she removed one face of the cube and felt inside. Paper—letters? And an assortment of sharp fragments of porcelain—exactly the same as the murder weapon.

Toph grinned. “Finally.”

* * *

“It’s all here,” Velvet confirmed.

Toph’s team crowded around the desk in her office, where they had laid out their finds.

“A message to Jasuk dated just over a week ago: ‘Proceed with porcelain plan. Report immediately when executed. Update regularly with political climate.’”

“Yep, that’s what it says,” Jag confirmed from behind the kid’s shoulder.

“Mm-hm,” the Gecko echoed.

“It’s all right, Gecko. I know you can’t read. ‘Porcelain’ obviously refers to the weapon. What’s the next one?”

“‘I am confident that you can win. More confident than I am of the opponent. Seek nomination with our support. Payment has been sent, with additional funds for election campaign, use at your discretion.’”

“Oh, that’s much better.” Toph grinned.

“Jasuk only had those two, plus the incriminating ceramics. The other papers are irrelevant. But here’s what Gecko and I got: ‘Gow: Stand down. Remain on the ballot, make noise, but keep out of trouble and do not win. Not even by cheating (your reputation precedes you). You won’t win the vote, but keep your men’s loyalty and yours will be rewarded.’”

“Excellent.”

“The handwriting is the same on all three letters. But there’s nothing here proving that it’s _Yei _who wrote these_,”_ Velvet objected.

Toph shrugged. “We’ll find something. At least it proves it’s Jasuk. And implicates Gow. It’s enough to go on.”

* * *

The plan was straightforward—and why not? They’d cracked the case, and Jasuk and Gow would show if they wanted to win the election. What could go wrong?

The sun came up hot, heralding a steamy, midsummer day. Voters began streaming to the boxes early, before work, planning ahead for a long siesta later. The candidates arrived one by one, welcomed with cheers from their supporters. Jasuk and Gow were among the last to appear.

Gow and his henchman marched through the crowd, taking up space and demanding what they thought was respect; everyone prudently got out of the way. They made a commotion as they came—shouting something about real men and Earth, blah, blah, blah—making it hard to tell how much and what kind of noise was coming from the rest of the crowd.

“Now?” Jag muttered in Toph’s ear.

She nodded, and he subtly signaled the guardsmen in place around the plaza, blocking Gow’s retreat.

Only after Gow’s team had settled (relatively speaking) on one side of the square did Jasuk arrive, buoyed by the enthusiasm of all the Rainbow Allies, who welcomed him with an actual song. He sailed through to the podium—the same podium where Lahar had perished—and waved to the crowd.

“Thank you! Thank you! I am humbled to be here today, and ask only for your goodwill. I await patiently to hear the word of the people.” He gestured grandly to the line of ballot boxes and bowed to the crowd.

Toph nodded in Jag's direction and he signaled the guards on either side of the podium. They began to close in.

Jasuk noticed. “I do have one last thing I would like to say,” he added. For the first time, Toph detected a note of urgency in his voice, the tension of uncertainty. “I want you all to know that I have been targeted. Last night, someone broke into my flat and searched it, and stole certain personal effects—of no value except to myself.” He spoke faster and faster as the guards edged in. “And I have reason to suspect political motives.” The guards seized his arms. “I am being silenced!”

“Damn right you are.” Toph raised herself up on a podium of her own in the center of the square. She stretched out her arm and pointed an accusatory finger at the candidate. “Jasuk, you are under arrest by order of the Governor’s agent, for the murder of Lahar.”

The gasp that rippled through the crowd, radiating out from her pronouncement in the center of the plaza, could not have been more gratifying.

“On what evidence?!” He was a fucking amazing actor—he sounded genuinely shocked and affronted.

“Evidence will be presented to the magistrates.” And Jag was there, the disinterested voice of the law, cuffing Jasuk’s hands in steel. Good thing, too, because in the heat of victory Toph had been about to spill it, unfounded assumptions and everything, in front of all Yu Dao.

The crowd muttered and roiled in confusion and disapproval as Jag assigned guards to take Jasuk away.

A manly whoop sounded from behind her. “You are going _down_, Jasuk! Or should I say Jak-ASS! Guess I win!”

“Vote Gow! Vote Gow!” His supporters started chanting.

“Not. So. Fast.” Toph swiveled her arm around to point at Gow, not bothering to turn her head. “_You_ sure as hell aren’t clean. Would you like to tell the class just who’s behind _your_ campaign?”

“No, I would not, _Toph,”_ Gow sneered.

Well, good. That was his fate sealed. Nothing soured public opinion around here like a shady, outside benefactor you won’t admit to. This wasn’t Ba Sing Se. Even under the Fire Nation, people here expected to know what was what and who was who. And public opinion didn’t need any actual evidence.

The unrest around them was finding its focus now, and Toph felt the anxiety in Gow’s heartbeat pick up before it was swallowed in the rising tide around her. This could get bad, though she found it hard to care if Gow ended up the victim.

A soft, strong hand seized hers and tugged her away. “You’re going to be needed with Jasuk.”

Velvet was right of course. Someone else could handle the mob-in-the-making—Jag was still there. Hand in hand, they ran down the alley that led to the jail.

It was a narrow lane, hemmed in by tall stone walls on either side, shielding the Governor’s servant quarters on the left and the stately homes of some of his officials on the right. The jail squatted behind the Palace, amongst utilitarian office buildings, and to get there, the alley made a blind turn.

Stupid design for sighted people. Toph was not blind here, and she knew the moment Jasuk twisted free of the guards in a surprisingly flexible move and raised his arms to slam them into the walls on either side in one circular movement, finishing with a flick of the wrists that sent a stone dart her way.

If Toph had been just a few paces further ahead, if she hadn’t taken that extra moment to bask in Gow’s humiliation and waited for Velvet to tug her free, she’d have been ready to stop him before he completed the thought. But she was late and he did.

She and Velvet careened around the corner together, as if Jasuk had choreographed it, the projectile heading straight for her throat. She still could have blocked it, easily, but before she could twitch, Velvet shoved her out of the way with a quick shift of his shoulders, and took her place.

_“Kiza! No!”_

He stumbled and fell to his knees, hands flying to his throat, and the hot smell of blood poured out of him.

“No-no-no-no.” Toph was at his side, forgetting all about the assassin, yanking off her overtunic to staunch the bleeding.

“Toph…” he said in a pale voice, then keeled over.

“Get a healer here! Now!”

The guards didn’t move—because they were encased in plaster. “Dammit.” She released them with a perfunctory snap. “Why the hell doesn’t Fosek hire better benders.” Kiza’s heart was going like a dizzy jackalope. She tried to get him comfortable—as much as possible on cobblestones. “Hang in there, kid. I’ve got you.”

Only then did she realize that Jasuk was long gone. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

The bad guy was getting away and her righthand man could die and she had screwed this whole thing up.

“Toph?” Kiza’s fingers scrabbled for hers and she held his hand in both of hers.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Toph,” he said more firmly. “Are you the world’s greatest earthbender or aren’t you?”

Fuck. What the fuck was wrong with her head. “I am. I am the world’s greatest earthbender and you are getting to a healer right now.”

She ripped the cobblestones up from the street right under him and smoothed them out into a floating stretcher. Depositing him in the Governor’s back courtyard, where staff met them at the gate and took him into their presumably more competent care, she headed back out into the streets to hunt down Jasuk.

And nearly collided with Jag, running to find her.

“He got away?!”

“Not for long. Jag, alert the guards on the city wall. He’s a bender, so he could tunnel. Send word to the outer patrol, too.” She didn’t wait to see if he did, just took off in the most likely direction, feeling for Jasuk’s hearbeat.

Earth-sensing wasn’t like tracking a scent; there was no trail to follow. But she wasn’t a ferret-hound, she was a detective with a brain. Where would he go? They knew of no accomplices in the city. He wouldn’t go back to his own place, or to his sister’s. He could hide underground, but he’d know Toph would find him eventually. He might be able to tunnel past the wall, but he’d have to cross Aang’s Rift, and that was all out in the open, with only two bridges, completely exposed. If he understood Toph, he’d hide either in wood—upstairs somewhere—or in water. She made a beeline for the marina.

Toph burst through the gate to the port, ignoring the guards’ cry of “halt!” and their footsteps behind her. The marina extended from the city on a spit of land, but as the city and its shipping trade had mushroomed, the wooden docks had encroached over the earth as boardwalks, buildings, platforms, and there was hardly any bare or even stone-paved ground left. Toph’s ears, all she had here, were bombarded by a cacophony of commerce—sailors, longshoreman, hustlers, and seabirds all shouting to be heard over the slap of waves against the sides of dozens of ships, the creaking ropes and pulleys, the clanging of who-knows-what on the steel Fire Nation ships.

Not gonna work.

“SILENCE!” She roared, sending a tremor through the earth underneath it all.

_That_ worked. After a few shrieks of alarm, no one dared stir and the only thing moving now was the water.

And a couple of stealthy sneakers trying to get away with something. She dismissed the pickpocket, the stowaway, and customs embezzler and after a few seconds, zeroed in on the guy trying to steal a rowboat.

A few long strides (long for her) got her in better range, and she concentrated on the ground beneath her—didn’t matter how far beneath—and the way it sloped down under the water—didn’t matter how far under—listening for the soft but frantic pull of oars in the waves. And yanked.

Giant teeth of slime-covered seabed shot up towards the sky, capsizing an innocent fishing boat (sorry!) and blocking the suspect’s escape.

“Gotcha.”

She was 90% sure she’d got the right man, and got her confirmation when the guards rushed past her to the end of the dock, called him by name, and hauled him in.

As they marched him passed her, Jasuk forced them to stop in front of her.

“You’ve caught me, but you don’t have enough proof to keep me, Toph,” he growled at her. “I confess to nothing.”

“Not yet, maybe.” And she gave him an evil grin. Honestly, she had no plan past this point—she definitely needed a lawyer involved—but she wasn’t going down in the battle of bravado. She snapped a chunk of rock around his wrists to punctuate her threat and nodded to the guards. “Take him to jail.”

* * *

Velvet was in an upstairs guest room smelling of crisp linens and freesias. He was not in bed, but standing near a window, looking out over the plaza, presumably. Because he was taller than Toph, the dart aiming for her throat had hit him under the collarbone, just missing a major vein. And the Governor had called in Yu Dao’s only waterbending healer, so he was actually going to be fine.

“Hey, Toph,” he smiled.

She marched over and punched him in the shoulder. (Very gently.) (He still winced.) “Moron. What the hell did you do that for? I could have blocked that shot myself.”

“Yeah, I know. I know that now. But I didn’t think then, I didn’t have time. I just had to protect you.”

Not so long ago, that would have offended her deeply. Toph could protect _herself_—always could. But one thing about Velvet, he never underestimated her. She wasn’t just a little girl to him. He saw her as she wanted to be seen: a master, a hero, a badass. And yet he helped her anyway. Never acted like her superior strength took something away from him.

“Why do I matter so much to you, Kiza?”

He cocked his head. “You never call me Kiza.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Not to you. I like Velvet. It suits me.”

“’Course it does. Soft, expensive, complex. And tougher than it seems.” She smiled at his reaction and took a step closer. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re…you’re just _you_, Toph. You’re everything.”

The master of words had no words. That told her all she needed to know.

Toph prowled forward, moving in for the kill. Kiza’s heart hammered. She took her time, reading his desires like a map. His breath quickened as she entered his space, placing one hand on the wall on either side of his body, still not touching him. She was close enough now to sense where the heat in his body was, just where the blood was rushing.

“You want me.”

Kiza gulped and hesitantly raised his hands to her waist. The instant he made contact, she slammed her body against his, forcing a panicked squeak out of him. She sealed her lips over his and felt them quiver before responding with equal pressure. Honestly, she didn’t know what to do from here, so she just kept pushing. They were going to end up with bruised lips. And actually, he wasn’t breathing. So she released him.

He gasped for air like a fish. Well, if fish breathed air. “Toph!” Her name sounded good like that.

“Yeah, Kiza?” She knew she was grinning like a fool.

“Kiss me again.”

She did. More experimentally this time. They explored what their lips could do together. Quite a lot, it turned out, with a little sensitivity. Toph felt her own pulse begin to race. He was delicious. And she told him so.

She felt his lips stretch into a smile under hers, making kissing a little tricky. Especially when hers did the same. They started to giggle, sucking in each other’s laughter. Kiza’s hands got more confident and began to roam up and down her back.

She sprang back at the creak of the floorboards, just before the door opened with a polite tap. Velvet reacted a moment later, tucking his hands into his pockets and turning towards the window.

“Master Toph? Oh, here you are.” Jag stepped into the room and nodded to each of them. “Kiza.” From the tone of his voice plus the immediate flush and tension in Velvet’s body, Jag knew what they’d been doing. Probably winked at the kid. “The governor would like to see you.”

“Are the election results in yet?” Velvet asked.

“Yep. Clean sweep for the Rainbow Alliance.”

“Thank goodness. I suppose they’ll have to hold a make-up vote of some kind for Lahar’s seat?”

“No, that’s settled, too. Her mother won as a write-in candidate. As soon as you two left the plaza, Lady Sekiei was up there on the podium—I don’t know if it was off the cuff, or she just had the perfect speech ready to go in her sleeve—but she started talking about what Lahar meant to her, and Yu Dao. And how she had hoped someone young would take up the reins now, but under the circumstances, perhaps everyone would consider her to honor her daughter’s legacy.”

“Well.” Toph was surprised and not surprised. While she hadn’t imagined Sekiei as a serious politician (maybe because she’d thought of her only as a wife and a mother), she didn’t doubt that woman had the strength of character to carry it through. “That all worked out then.”

They had come to Governor Fosek’s private office now, and Jag bowed and followed them in at a deferential distance.

“Master Toph. And it’s Kiza, is it? Of Bumi’s Ba Sing Se line?”

Kiza bowed elegantly. “The same. It is my honor, Governor Fosek.”

"The honor is mine." Fosek seemed pleased by the show of manners, but didn’t dawdle on formalities. “It seems you’ve caught the killer, Toph. I thank you for your service. We will need to verify your accusations, of course. ”

“Of course.” Toph proceeded to tell him the whole story, as Jag presented the evidence with the bureaucratic obfuscation governors like. Then repeated it the next day in the magistrate’s court, and the day after that for the City Council. And then again for the newspapers. Lawyers got involved. Jasuk was charged and found guilty of conspiracy, but the evidence was deemed inconclusive for murder—not specific enough and somewhat compromised by the means of its acquisition—which pissed her off. Still, he was sentenced to five years at sea on a prison ship, so it wasn’t a total wash.

But that was much later in the year. That summer, just as Toph was settling back into her old life, trying to be grateful for the normalcy, but honestly bored out of her mind, she was awakened one morning by a pounding at the door.

“Master Toph! The Governor needs you again. Someone broke into the new mint and stole the coin press!”

Toph couldn’t hide her grin. “I’m on it.”

石

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And for your comments, if you're so moved. I am always moved to read them. 
> 
> And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Toph will rejoin the main story in **Book 5: Purity** with a quick note to Aang (Ch. 21), before showing up at Sokka and Suki's wedding with her plus-one in tow (Ch. 24-26).

**Author's Note:**

> FYI....Velvet is first introduced in Orbits, Book 4, Chapter 15 "Vigilante." And Aang decrees the creation Fifth Nation at the end of Book 4, resolving the Ten-Minute War of Yu Dao.
> 
> For the slightly more obsessive reader, there's a [name index](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314068) for the entire Orbits series.


End file.
